


Harrison Alistair and the Goblet of Fire

by MysticWolfShadows



Series: Harrison Alistair [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Basilisks, Good Severus Snape, Hogwarts Fourth Year, Hufflepuff Ron Weasley, Not Dumbledore Friendly, Sassy Harry, Slytherin Harry Potter, Smart Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2020-12-28 11:08:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 50,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21135728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysticWolfShadows/pseuds/MysticWolfShadows
Summary: With Pettigrew in the wind, and the threat of Voldemort returning at its highest, Harry's family wants him to be prepared. Still, he want's to have one normal year, or as close as he can get, before his worst enemy returns. Well, he should have known he'd never get that.





	1. Training and Dances

Harry’s summer was very different this year. 

After the first talk, changes had started to be made around the house. The wards were changed first, making it impossible for people who aren’t invited inside to enter the grounds without mother’s flora trying to strangle them, and a silent spell being cast on all who enter who weren’t a part of the household. While Snape couldn’t stay, he had left Derrick with a list of suggested potions to brew. Sirius remained, able to roam the house freely in human for when no guests were present, and animagus for when there were guests. 

They started Harry’s training immediately. At first, it was mostly Sirius and Papa arguing about what he should learn first, offensive or defensive spells. Eventually, when they finally had Skyla’s graduation party, they told the rest of the family what was going on, and Maria wrote out a special curriculum for Harry. It was switching between all sorts of spells, mostly offensive, with some other things like the Patronus Charm and something called Occlumency thrown in . 

“He should learn how to be an Animagus,” Sirius said one afternoon, when they were taking a break. “He could use it to get out of trouble.” 

“We don’t have the time,” Papa had snapped. “And it’s illegal.” 

“That won’t stop Voldemort from doing things.” 

“And if we break the law to do what we want, then how are we any better?” 

“Are you comparing teaching Harry something that can help him survive to being a Dark Wizard?!” 

“Dad,” Harry said, making both men pause. “Maybe Sirius has a point? Having an Animagus form would be pretty useful. I wouldn’t have to worry about werewolves, and I could use it to hide in plain sight if someone comes after me. Plus, it would be an ability that Pettigrew and Death Eaters wouldn’t know about.” 

Sirius grinned, head held high as he crossed his arms. Papa scowled. 

“But he has a point too, Sirius,” Harry added. “We learned about Animagi at Hogwarts last year. It takes a month with just the leaf, and then we’d have to wait for a thunderstorm. Not to mention the potion that needs to be brewed. I mean, Derrick could totally do it, but we only have three months left. Less, even, since there will be people here in early August for the summer gala.” 

“You can’t seriously still be holding that,” Sirius groaned. “Don’t you get how dangerous it is, with Peter out there?” 

“We host it every year,” Papa retorted. “To stop now would be suspicious.” 

Sighing, Harry grabbed at his forehead. He was starting to get a headache from all the arguing. Sirius was rather upset, since Harry called James and Lily by, well, their first names, and while he didn’t really forget about them, Harry didn’t think of them as his parents. He’d never known them and he had his adoptive parents so long that they were just his parents now. His father, on the other hand, was still suspicious of Sirius.

They called it in for the rest of the day after that, and Harry went to find somewhere quiet to relax for a while. 

XxXXxX

The rest of his summer went much the same way. Days and days of training, learning spells he could use in a life or death fight, and trying to keep Sirius and his father from killing each other. 

There was a constant rotation of visiting family throughout the next month. The house had become a bit of a hub, with Harry’s siblings coming in and out to help with his training. His nieces and nephews were training now, too. Marissa joined his sessions often, since Dorian was busy with his job, though she was a bit behind him in spells. 

“There’s so much,” Marissa had mused when Harry was helping her with a charm he had mostly mastered weeks ago. “I can barely keep six of them straight, much less the twenty you’ve learned.” 

“Feels more like fifty,” Harry chuckled. It was true, he had been learning a lot of spells. But he had moved onto a more physical part of training now, as well as bi-weekly Occlumency with Snape. It seemed to be the only thing that his father and Sirius could agree on. “Besides, I’ve been working on this a bit longer then you.” 

Marissa shrugged, and they went back to practice. They had a few hours before they would be forced to stop. Ron and Hermione would be arriving for the Gala, and they would need to be filled in on what had happened. He hadn’t really celebrated his birthday that year, since he’d been so busy, and this was something they couldn’t really talk about over owl. 

When his two friends arrived, they were both surprised to find Sirius there. Though, Harry kind of thought it might of been because Sirius was no longer grungy and dirt covered. He looked more like he belonged on stage with Russell’s band instead of hiding out in the Alistair house. 

“Guess you’ll be too busy to come to the World Cup,” Ron sighed, sounding rather disappointed. “Man, I was looking forward to you coming along.” 

“Ron,” Hermione sighed. “There are more important things besides Quidditch. Harry’s life could be in danger.” 

Harry rubbed at his forehead, sighing. “Guys… Can you not argue? I’m getting a headache.” 

The two shared a look, but quieted down. They talked for a while after that, before they went their separate ways to get ready. For now, they would act natural and go to the Gala. Harry and Ron got dressed in their dress clothes, with Harry keeping his wand tucked into his sleeve. Sirius would be there as well, in animagus form. His mother had gotten Dizzy to give him a bath and put a bow tie on him, so Padfoot looked hilariously adorable. 

“This is so weird,” Marissa whispered to Harry as they stood by the entrance to greet the incoming guests, Padfoot seated to Harry’s other side. “I mean, some of these guys are Auror’s…” 

“Just smile and nod,” Harry whispered back. “No one knows and we’re going to keep it that way.” 

Once everyone was present, Harry and Marissa shared a dance, as they seemed to do every year. It was a good judge of how much better Harry had gotten, since he only stepped on her toes twice instead of twenty. Sirius spent most of the time seated off to one side, or trying to not get murdered by Harry’s seven year old nephew, Jameson, who  _ really  _ wanted to play with him. 

“Do you think Arianna will ever remarry?” Harry had asked offhandedly, as he watched his older sister try to get Jameson to stop bothering Padfoot. 

“I don’t know,” Marissa said, turning to look with Harry. Jameson had finally let go, and Arianna was showing him how to gently pet Padfoot. “I don’t really remember Uncle James- Her husband. He died when we were, like, eight. But I do remember that she loved him a lot.” 

Harry hummed at that, giving a little bow when the song ended and they stepped apart. He had fully intended to go over and check on Padfoot, or go see how Ron and Hermione were doing, only to get swept up by Blaise tugging him back out to the dance floor. 

“Blaise?” he choked, blinking in confusion as his roommate and friend started leading him around the floor. “What the hell?” 

“Just thought I’d get a dance in with a friend before things really get crazy at these things,” Blaise chuckled. “We’re almost of age, after all. This will probably be our last chance.” 

“What?” Harry asked, then shook his head as he thought better of it. “No. Forget it. Got any news? You usually seem to know when things are happening.” 

“Sort of,” he hummed, forcing Harry into a twirl. “Only rumors. Some kind of contest that’s hosted between three schools might be coming back. Super dangerous.” 

Harry frowned, thinking that over. A contest that was dangerous and hosted at school? Knowing Dumbledore’s insanity, it was probably coming back and Harry would somehow get roped into it. But it was a contest… As long as it wasn’t nomination based, he just wouldn’t put his name in. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could finally have a safe and worriless year at Hogwarts. 

“Thanks for the heads up,” Harry said when the song ended and he could step away from Blaise. 

“Just figured you should know, since you always seem to get yourself caught up in that kind of thing. Now, if you don’t mind…” Blaise ran a hand through his hair, somehow both smoothing it back and ruffling it. “I think I’m gonna ask Marissa to dance.” 

With a chuckle, Harry shook his head and turned to make his way back to the tables. He looked around for Ron and Hermione, surprised to find them sharing a rather uncomfortable dance, and decided to head outside instead. Padfoot, who had finally settled into doing tricks to keep Jameson from accidentally strangling him, instantly took notice and came after him. 

“Dizzy’s going to have a fit if you got hair on the carpet rolling around on it,” Harry told him, pausing to straighten the little bow tie. “And you better be careful outside. She’ll probably strangle you if you track mud in.” 

“Still talking to dogs, I see.” 

He turned back to look at who had spoken, and smiled a little when he saw Draco. The blond was seated on the bench in Harry’s favorite spot, looking almost exactly the same as he had two months ago. He looked a bit taller, and Harry tried to not let that bother him, since he hadn’t hit his own growth spurt yet. 

With a shrug, Harry moved to take a seat next to Draco. Padfoot gave a little bark, and jumped up to sit in the middle of the long bench. Harry simply raised a brow, and shooed him off so he could sit down. 

“You have the strangest pets,” Draco mused, eyeing Padfoot with a raised brow. 

Harry chuckled, leaning back. “Yeah, I do, don’t I? What with the basilisk and all.” 

Instantly, Padfoot’s head whipped around to stare at Harry. He winced. He forgot he hadn’t told his parents about Sila… She was probably being pampered by Hagrid again. 

“Yes,” Draco agreed. “But I suppose the basilisk is probably the stranger of the two.” 

“I have more,” Harry said. “Pets, I mean. Not basilisk. I have Hedwig, my owl, of course, but I also have this nest of vipers that live in a flower bush in my room.” 

With a sigh, Draco shook his head. “Of course you do. I don’t know why I bother thinking you could get less strange.” 

He shrugged, not sure what to say to that. After all, there was a lot that Draco didn’t know about him… Harry didn’t like keeping secrets from his friends. It was why he told Hermione who he was back in his first year. But this was different. Draco and the other Slytherin’s were his friends, sure, but he wasn’t as close with them as he was Ron and Hermione. He wasn’t sure that he could trust them with the truth about things like Sirius or who his birth parents were. 

And that thought pained him. He wanted to trust Blaise and Theo and Draco. But they had hurt him in the past. All of first year, they hadn’t really spoken with him, and had actually antagonized him for half of that. He wanted nothing more then to trust his friends, but… 

Shaking the thoughts way, Harry looked at the sliver of the moon in the sky. It was getting late, he realized, and he really should head back inside. 

“I’m heading back in,” Harry said, standing up. “You should to, if you don’t want to catch a cold.” 

Draco looked up at him for a moment, before giving a simple nod and turning to look back up at the dark night sky. With a sigh, Harry turned and headed inside. Arianna was waiting by the door, Jameson yawning next to her and her other son Joseph. Harry hadn’t really talked to her as often as he had some of his other siblings, but she had always been very kind. 

“Jameson is getting tired,” she said, “so we’ll be going home. He just wanted to say goodbye to… ‘Padfoot’.” 

“Bye Padfoot,” Jameson yawned, waving one of his hands. 

Padfoot, thankfully, didn’t run from the boy that had been tormenting him most of the night. Instead, he moved forward to let Jameson and Joseph pet him before Arianna was ushering them away. Harry stood for a moment, watching his older sister leave, before heading back inside. 

“You know,” he said, soft so anyone nearby wouldn’t hear. “You two seem to get along pretty well. Maybe you should ask her out.” 

Padfoot let out a yelp, wiping his head around to look at Harry, only to run into a wall. Harry couldn’t help but laugh. 


	2. Quidditch World Cup

It took some convincing, but Harry was allowed to go to the Quidditch World Cup. Though, the only reason seemed to be that Dorian, Dahlia, and Nina were all going to be there as well. It wasn’t that they didn’t trust the Weasleys, they did, but other then Ron, the red headed family didn’t know the true dangers that could be lurking in the world again. 

“You’ll stay close,” his mother ordered as she was straightening the collar of Harry’s coat. “No wandering off alone.” 

“No, Mom,” Harry said, a little grin playing on his lips. Dorian and Dahlia were cool. They’d let Harry wonder if Ron was with him. “I’ll be fine. We’ll watch the game and then I’ll go back to the Weasley’s with Ron for a night. I’ll be back in two days.” 

She huffed, shaking her head as she looked over her shoulder at Nina, who would be side along Apparate him to the game. They were leaving a bit later then most, since Dorian couldn’t stay in a tent with his leg the way it was, but they would make it in time to get to the game and then leave. Taking Nina’s hand, Harry did his best to ignore the twisting feeling he got whenever he side-alonged. 

When they arrived, Harry followed Nina from the Apparition point down to the campsite. He knew that the campsites were being run by Muggles, so he was a bit surprised when he saw the tents. Some of them were so obviously magic, with chimneys and gardens, that Harry wouldn’t be surprised if the Ministry was working overtime to keep the Muggles from noticing. Hell, there were even albino peacocks tethered to one tent! 

“Harry!” a voice called from behind him. 

He paused, turning to look over his shoulder. The Weasley men were piling out of a small tent, Ron beaming at him. Harry grinned, and he waited with Nina for Ron to catch up with them. 

“Hey, Ron,” Harry said, grinning a little. “Ready for the game?” 

“Of course!” Ron grinned back. “Bulgaria is playing! We’ll get to see Victor Krum in action!” 

“The Bulgarian Seeker?” Nina asked, though she seemed to be speaking mostly to herself. “He’s young, still in school, even. But he is impressive.” 

Harry hummed, not really caring all that much who Krum was. He loved Quidditch, really, but he wasn’t here to see the players. He was here to watch the game with his friend. Well, that and maybe come up with a few extra strategies for the Slytherin team. They would be missing a Beater, since Jack Williams had graduated, but that would hopefully be the only position that they needed to fill and thus give them an advantage over the other teams that would have more new players. 

They met up with Dorian and Marissa at the entrance to the stands, while Fred and George were making a bet with a Ministry Wizard. Dahlia was apparently up in the Top Box, where they would be sitting. After showing their tickets to a witch watching the entrance, they all made their way up to the box. 

There were about twenty seats in all in the box, colored purple and organized in two rows. The Weasleys filed easily into the first row, nearly filling it with just themselves, and the last two being saved by a house elf at the end. Harry and his family would take up half of the back row, but he took a moment to give Dahlia a tight hug first. Of all his family coming in and out of the main house, Dahlia was the only one who had really been absent. Hell, he’d rarely seen her at all since she graduated from Hogwarts and started playing for the Holyhead Harpies. 

“You’ve gotten so big,” Dahlia said with a wide grin. “It feels like it’s been forever! Heard you’re captain of the Slytherin Quidditch Team now. Following in my footsteps, I see.” 

“Yeah,” Harry chuckled, moving to sit down beside her and behind Ron. “It’s pretty hard. I don’t know how you did it.” 

“I wasn’t a third year when I became captain. But from what I hear, you’ve been doing pretty good. If I had the resume you seem to be building when I applied for the Harpies, I probably wouldn’t have needed Dorian’s help getting recruited. Youngest Seeker in a hundred years and running the team by third year.” 

Harry gave a bit of a shrug. He hadn’t asked to be on the team, and he hadn’t asked to be captain. The positions had sort of just… been handed to him. He hadn’t done anything to deserve them. Well, he had practically run half of the team second year, just because Flint was absolutely awful, but that was about it. 

More people filed into the room, and Harry recognized most of them. It was the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, a man that wasn’t speaking english, and the Malfoy’s. Harry grinned when he saw Draco, and gave a wave to get his attention. That was also about the time that Lucius Malfoy noticed Mr. Weasley. 

“Good lord, Arthur,” Mr. Malfoy said, soft with shock. “What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely, your house wouldn’t fetch this much.” 

Dorian, who was on the end behind Mr. Weasley, and closest to Mr. Malfoy, spoke first. “Arthur’s very good at his job, you know. Everyone knows to go to him if they have a problem having to do with Muggle artifacts. He’s even done favors for me.” 

“I see,” Mr. Malfoy said with a crinkle of his nose. “So he got the Alistair’s to buy him and his little mob the tickets.” 

Even though the comment had made Harry’s own blood boil, due to the implications, he quickly stood, before Dorian could do something stupid, and cleared his throat load enough to get their attention. 

“It’s been such a long time since we’ve seen Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, hasn’t it, Ron?” Harry said, as if he wasn’t speaking to the room as a whole. “Not since we saved Draco from the Chamber in second year, right?” 

Ron, who had looked almost like a tomato from the red color of his angry cheeks, blinked and turned to look at him in confusion. Harry made a subtle gesture with his eyes in Mr. Malfoy’s direction, and Ron glanced over with a frown. Mr. Malfoy had frozen, his face twisted in almost painful embarrassment. 

“Oh,” Ron said, starting to settle down, a bit of a grin on his lips. “Yeah, it has been that long hasn’t it?” 

Harry nodded, and turned a smile to the adult Malfoy’s. “It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Malfoy. Well, up close, I mean. You’re at the Summer Gala, I know, but I don’t remember ever seeing you.” 

The blond woman smiled, seemingly genuine as she ushered her husband into a seat next to the Ministar. “Oh, I’m not surprised. Every time I spot you, you’re either heading out into the garden or so absorbed in dancing that I don’t want to bother you. You dance beautifully, dear.” 

Unable to help it, Harry blushes, rubbing the back of his neck as he gives a bit of an uncomfortable laugh. “Me? No, I’ve got two left feet, really. Just ask Marissa. I step on her toes so often, I think I’m gonna break her feet.” 

“Nonsense,” she said, waving her hand. “I’ve seen you dancing with Draco. It’s so elegant and beautiful. Like two lovers sharing an embrace, really.” 

“Mother,” Draco hissed under his breath as he took the open seat between Harry and Mrs. Malfoy, his pale cheeks dusted with a red blush. 

Harry felt his own cheeks heat, and cleared his throat again as he turned to look anywhere else but Draco. “So, when does the match start?” 

It was then that a man’s voice seemed to boom around the entire stadium, echoing into every corner of the stands. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,’ the man said. “Welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!” 

All around, spectators screamed and clapped, thousands of flags waving. There were a few inharmonious shouts of out of tune national anthems as a massive blackboard on the opposite side of the stadium was wiped clear, replacing an add for Bertie Bott’s Beans with a zero-zero score count. 

“And now,” the man continued, “without further ado, allow me to introduce… The Bulgarian National Team Mascots!” 

From one side of the stands, which was a rather solid block of scarlet, gave a loud and roaring cheer of approval. Down below, a hundred or so women were now gliding out onto the field. They were beautiful women, with pale moon-lit skin and white-gold hair that fanned out behind them, even though there wasn’t any wind. Music began to play, and Harry stood up from his seat to get a better look when Ron stood up from his own chair in front of him. 

The women began to dance, and Harry’s mind seemed to be fading. Thoughts were no longer forming, leaving Harry just staring down at the women dancing faster and faster. He knew, even if his mind didn’t care, that these women couldn’t possibly be human. Then, Harry started having thoughts of doing something bold. Something daring… 

A hand reached out, suddenly grabbing Harry by the back of his shirt and snapping him back from blissful mindlessness. Blinking, Harry turned to find Draco holding onto the back of his shirt, not looking at Harry, but also not looking at the women down below. He turned to look back at the stadium, only to catch sight of Ron looking like he was about to jump off a springboard. Quickly, he reached up and tugged Ron back into his seat, and returned to his own. 

It was then that the music suddenly cut off, and the women were leaving the field. Now that Harry was actually thinking, he was surprised to find that the pale skin and fair haired women kind of reminded him of Draco. Maybe that's why he hadn’t seemed affected by their strange and inhuman magic. 

“And now,” the announcer roared, “kindly put your wands in the air… for the Irish National Team Mascots!” 

A green and gold comet came zooming out into the stadium at that moment. For a second, Harry thought the event was under attack, only for it to do a lap around the stadium before splitting into two smaller comets, each shooting off to the goal posts. A rainbow spread between the two, connecting them, as the crowd cheered as though at a fireworks display. The rainbow then faded, and the two balls came slamming back together, forming a giant, shimmering shamrock. It rose into the sky, starting to soar around the stands, gold raining down from it. 

As the shamrock flew over head, and gold coins started to bounce off their heads and seats, Harry realized that it was actually made of thousands of tiny bearded men. They were carrying lamps of gold and green, clad in red vests. People were clambering to gather the coins, and Harry picked up a few that had landed by his feet. 

“Leprechaun gold,” Draco scoffed. “It vanishes after a few hours.” 

“So?” Harry asked, feeling the coins in his fingers. “It’s really cool.” 

“And now, ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer called. “Kindly welcome the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you Dimitrov! Ivanova! Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! And…  _ Krum _ !” 

One by one, scarlet clad figures shot out onto the field, the Bulgarian supporters giving wild and mad cheers. When Krum finally came out, he moved faster then Harry had ever seen a broom go. In front of him, Ron was quickly starting to freak out with cheers. 

“That's him!” Ron was shouting, reaching back behind himself to slap at Harrys knees. “That’s him! It’s Krum!” 

Harry laughed, trying to get Ron to stop as the announcer called out the Irish team. He could barely hear over Ron’s rabid fanboying, but he didn’t mind. He was just glad to get to watch the game and relax after nearly three months of solid training.


	3. The Death Eaters March

When the game ended with Krum catching the Snitch, but the Irish winning, Harry followed the Weasley’s out of the stands, staying to the back of the group with Ron to talk with Draco. 

“I can’t believe it,” Ron said, shaking his head in shock, even though he had applauded the Irish for their win. “What did he catch the Snitch for? He ended it when Ireland was a hundred and sixty points ahead! What an idiot!” 

“He knew they were never going to catch up,” Harry argued, shrugging his shoulders as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. “He wanted to end the game on his own terms, that’s all.” 

“Yes,” Draco agreed. “The Irish Chasers out classed the Bulgarian ones. They were simply better.” 

“Yeah, like how the Hufflepuff Chasers are ‘simply better’ then you?” Ron shot back with a cheeky grin, though, for once, there was no fire behind it. 

Draco gave a sharp laugh. “Oh, of course! I suppose I didn’t notice while I was stealing the Quaffle right out of Applebee’s hands!” 

“Just you wait. Hufflepuff is gonna kick Slytherin’s ass this year! I’ve been training all summer, and this year I’m sure I’ll get onto the team. Then I’ll be an unstoppable Keeper! You won’t get a single ball past me.” 

Harry laughed, giving Ron a friendly jab in the ribs with his elbow. They continued on like this all the way to the tent area, where Dorian stopped Harry with a hand on his shoulder. He looked like he was in pain, and Harry gave his older brother a nervous look. He was always pushing himself to hard, now more then ever, since he was working as a couch. 

“You should go home,” Harry said. “I’ll be fine the rest of the way to the Weasley’s tent without an escort.” 

“Mum said I was supposed to watch you,” Dorian argued, even as he wobbled and grit his teeth, leaning heavily on his crutch. That probably wasn’t very good for his shoulder. “At least until you’re safe in the Weasley's tent. You’re known to wander off and get yourself into trouble.” 

“Me? Wander off into trouble? Name one time I’ve done that.” 

Dorian scowled, eyes narrowing. “Dad told me about how you got your bush full of snakes. You go out into the garden alone one time and you almost die.” 

“That was a coincidence,” Harry scoffed. “Nothing more then chance. And that was supposed to be perfectly safe, you know, in our own grounds.” 

“Okay, what about your first year? And the Philosopher’s Stone?” 

“Okay, well, that was-” 

“Or during your second year, in the Chamber of Secrets?” 

“Draco was going to die, I couldn’t just-” 

“Or a few months ago, when you followed a man you thought was trying to kill you into a mysterious tunnel that was under a tree that also wanted to kill everything?” 

Harry huffed, crossing his arms. “Fine, fine. You made your point. But seriously, Dorian. The Portkey station is in the opposite direction, and even if it’s not that far to the tent, you need to get off that leg sooner rather then later. Besides, I got Ron and all the other Weasley’s.” 

His brother hesitated for a moment, before giving up. He looked so tired and exhausted. Only Marissa would likely know how long he’d been on that bad leg today. From the thankful smile that she shot him as they left, Harry was pretty sure it had to be far more then recommended. 

“Come on,” Ron said, giving Harry a nudge. “Let’s go.” 

“Staying with Weasley?” Draco asked as they continued down the rows of tents. “I can’t say I’m surprised. Though, you should have told me you would be here. We could have hosted you in our tent.” 

With a shrug, Harry looked up at the dark evening sky. “I didn’t even know if I was gonna come. Parents are still a bit freaked about the… Sirius Black thing. He still hasn’t been caught, you know? He risked getting into Hogwarts twice while Dementor’s were everywhere, so who knows what he’d do at a crowded event where tons of strange witches and wizards are hiding their faces.” 

It was a complete lie. After all, Harry and his parents knew exactly where Sirius was. Probably getting dog fur all over a couch in one of the upstairs lounge areas. To be honest, Harry was surprised that his mother hadn’t ordered him to take Sirius with him. Though, that would be hard to explain, bringing a ‘pet’ to a sporting event. But this was a lie that he and his family had planned beforehand, in case they were asked why they were taking extra precautions when out and about. 

Draco didn’t question it, though he was looking a bit uncomfortable. “Oh… Yes, I suppose you’re right…” 

Harry frowned, not sure what he had said to make his friend and roommate nervous or uncomfortable. He shrugged it off, turning when Ron ducked into a tent. “Guess this is me. You gonna be okay getting to your tent on your own?” 

“I’ll be fine, Harrison,” Draco said. “It’s honestly not that far from here. You probably saw it, what with my father just having to bring his god awful peacocks.” 

He tried to hold back the snort, really, he did, but he couldn’t help it. Draco just rolled his eyes, though, and turned to make his way back to his tent. Harry turned, ducking inside the Weasely’s tent, suddenly very tired. With a yawn, he made his way to a bunk bed off to one side, where Ron was already asleep on the bottom bunk. 

It wasn’t long before he was asleep. He dreamt of flying on his broom, zipping through the air. He could see himself in robes with his name on the back, as the announcer’s voice echoed in his ears. ‘I give you… Alistair!’ There were thunderous booms and screaming cheers, coming from all around and- 

“Get up! Ron, Harry! Come on now, get up! This is urgent!” 

Sitting up, Harry blinked as he tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes. He could still hear the cheers from his dream, only they weren’t cheers anymore. They were screams of fear and terror, the thunderous boom of applause replaced with running feet. 

Dropping down from the top bunk, Harry grabbed his jacket and pulled it on. Mr. Weasley was urging them all to hurry, pushing each of his red headed children toward the entrance flap. Harry was pushed out first, spotting something moving across the field toward them, odd flashes and sounds like gunfire coming it. There was loud roars of laughter, sounding almost drunken, as a flash of green lit the scene. 

It was a group of wizards, packed tight together and moving with their wands pointed straight up. They were marching in a slow rhythm across the field, and as they drew closer, he noticed that they were wearing dark hoods and pale masks. Above them was a group of four, struggling as they were twisted into horrifying shapes. 

As the crowd swelled, knocking tents down and setting some on fire, Harry felt sick as he saw that two of the figures looked like children. Mr. Weasley, however, was soon coming out of the tent, and turned Harry around to face him, his usually kind and happy face hard as he looked over all of them. 

“You kids get into the woods,” he ordered, rolling up his sleeves and leaving no room for argument. “And  _ stick together _ . We’re going to go help the Ministry, but I’ll come and fetch you when we’ve sorted this all out.” 

The three oldest Weasley sons were already sprinting away towards the marchers, and Mr. Wasley was soon racing after them. It took a moment for any of them to move, only snapping out of it when one of the twins grabbed Ginny’s hand and started pulling her in the direction of the woods. Harry hesitated, turning to look down the site in the direction of Draco’s family tent, only for Ron to give his shoulder a shove to get him moving. 

All around on the dark path to the stadium, Harry could hear panicked voices calling into the dark. There were crying children, though none were close enough for Harry to see. But he kept moving, trying to find his wand in his jacket. Behind him, Ron let out a sharp cry of pain, which was followed by a thud. 

“Ron?” Harry tried, not finding his wand. “What happened?” 

“Tripped on a root,” Ron grunted, and Harry shuffled in the direction his voice came from to help him up. 

“Not surprised,” a voice cut through the dark. “With feet those size, it would be hard not to.” 

Harry squinted, his eyes still trying to adjust to the dark. It was Draco, standing alone by a tree, and seeming to watch the campsite from a gap in the trees. He looked a mix of concerned and disappointed, though Harry didn’t know why. 

“You shouldn’t stay here,” Draco continued, never turning to face them. “It might not be safe for Harrison.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ron snapped, struggling to his feet and turned in Draco’s general direction. 

“They’re after Muggles, and muggleborns. Some of them might just be drunk enough to not care that he belongs to one of the largest wizarding families in Britain.” 

For a moment, Harry’s mind jumped back to Dorian. If Dorian and Marissa had stayed, or came to the tent to rest for a bit before heading home… With that leg, Dorian would have never made it into the woods. He would have been a sitting duck, even with a wand to defend himself. And Marissa… she would have never been able to leave her father behind to escape. 

“You should keep going,” Draco said. “Go find the rest of the Weasley lot.” 

“You should come with us,” Harry said, as a loud bang sounded from the other side of the trees, followed by several screams. “It’s dangerous. For everyone.” 

At first, Draco didn’t move. He continued to stare through the trees. Then, he dropped his eyes, and turned to follow Harry and Ron through the trees. They couldn’t spot the twins or Ginny through the dense cluster of people. There was a cluster of teenagers in pajamas a little bit away from them, who spotted them first. A girl with thick curls come over, speaking quickly in a language Harry didn’t know. 

“ _ Où est Madame Maxime? Nous l’avons perdue- _ ” 

“Er,” Ron said, looking rather confused. “What?” 

“ _ Nous sommes de ‘Ogwarts, _ ” Draco tells her, as her face falls. “ _ J'ai bien peur que nous ne connaissions pas votre directrice. _ ” 

Her face falls, looking pale and disappointed as she goes back to the group of teens. When Harry raised a brow at him, Draco huffed. 

“They’re from Beauxbatons. The wizarding school in France. They’re looking for their headmistress.” With a frown, Draco squinted at Harry in the dark. “Harrison, there’s something on your forehead.” 

Blinking, Harry reached up to touch his fingers by his temple. He felt the smearing of the concealer he’d been using get wiped off on his fingers. Normally, he put the makeup before covering it with a glamour, just so it would look a bit more normal, but he supposed that the glamour had worn off. The concealer must be starting to smear. 

“Probably just some dirt,” he said, as casually as he could, turning to Ron he did his best not to cough. “Hey, you seen my wand? It’s not in my pocket.” 

“No,” Ron said, frowning. “Maybe you dropped it?” 

Harry groaned, turned to look back the way they had just come from. “I have to go find it.” 

“What?” Draco gasped. “Harrison, you can’t be serious.” 

“I need my wand, Draco,” Harry grumbled, heading towards the trees. “You guys just stay here, and I’ll go look. I’ll just be a minute.” 

“Harrison!” Draco squawked. 

“Harry’s tough,” Ron said, even though he sounded a bit worried. “He’ll probably come back after knocking some Dark Wizard out, but… Yeah, Harry, wait for me!” 

He didn’t wait, not really, as Ron came jogging after him, Draco not that far behind, though much less eagerly. Shuffling along the path he was sure they’d come from, Harry was bending down to pick up anything his foot kicked. It was mostly just sticks and pinecones, which he quickly cast aside.

They were half way down the path, the camp site further ahead eerily quiet, when Draco’s hand flew out and grabbed tightly at the sleeve of Harry’s coat. Surprised, Harry paused, and turned to look back at the blond. 

“Did you hear that?” Draco asked, his voice low as he looked back the way they had come. 

For a minute, Harry and Ron just listened, trying to hear whatever it was that Draco had. The woods were silent, not even the sound of bugs or frogs. Then, through the darkness, a voice cut through to their ears. It wasn’t a panicked shout, or a terrified scream, but a deep voice hissing a spell. 

“ _ Morsmordre! _ ” 

With that, a vast green form burst up and out of the trees. Harry couldn’t see it clearly, but at first he had thought it was the leprechauns. Only, it had been a spell that had conjured the shape, so it had to be a wizard. He squinted, making out the shape of a skull, made of emerald green stars, with a snake coming from the mouth like a scaly tongue. As he watched, the snake rose and twists, until the image was blazing a hazy green constellation of smoke on the black sky. 

There were horrified screaming wails, and even Draco was jerking back and away from the image in a panicked fear Harry had never seen on him. Confused, Harry started towards the direction the voice had come from. 

“H-Harrison!” Draco squawked. “What are you  _ doing _ ?” 

“What’s the matter?” Harry asked. 

“That’s- That’s the Dark Mark,” Draco managed, sounding pained and scared. “The Dark Lord’s sign!” 


	4. Return of the Death Tournament

Instantly, Harry’s eyes widened. “ _ Voldemort’s _ -?”

He was running before he even realized what he was doing. His feet carried him toward the place that the mark had been cast from. Could it be Pettigrew? Had the rat managed to bring Voldemort so quickly? 

Harry could barely register Ron chasing after him, or Draco shrieking at them both. He let his feet carry him, never stopping, until he came to a small clearing off the side of the path. No sooner then when he stepped into the clearing, a series of pops of Apparition sounded around them. He barely had time to register the arrival of twenty or so wizards, instead taking note of their drawn wands, and quickly dropped to the ground. 

“Duck!” he shouted at Ron, just in time as twenty voices roared out the same spell. As stunners flew over his head, his hair being rippled as they wized by, he managed to raise his head just a fraction to recognize some of the casters. He’d seen them when his father had meetings with Ministry people in the house. Not Death Eaters, then. 

“Stop!” he heard a familiar voice call. “Stop! That’s my son!” 

He looked up to see Mr. Waseley running towards them. The man looked ragged and horrified, his face covered in sweat. 

“Ron,” he called, voice shaking. “Harry. Are you all right?” 

“Out of the way, Arthur,” a cold voice demands, before Harry can speak. It was a man that Harry had only seen once, visiting his father’s home office, and the man had not left pleased. “Which of you did it? Which of you conjured the Dark Mark?” 

“We didn’t do anything!” Ron said, glaring at the man as he got up. “What did you want to attack us for?” 

“We came to make sure no one was hurt.” Harry was doing his best to keep calm, since he knew that he could use his family’s status to get out of this, but… His mother would be called, and the last thing he needed was worrying her more then he already would be. She was getting on in years, and he was starting to worry that one good fright would send her to an early grave. “We heard someone casting, and when we figured out what it was, we came running. There were little kids in these woods that could have been attacked.” 

“A likely story,” the man shouted, his wand pointed in Ron’s face. “You were discovered at the scene of the crime!” 

“Barty,” a witch whispered from off to the side. “They’re kids. They’d never have been able to-” 

“If it wasn’t them, then they can’t of gotten far,” another wizard said, and the Auror’s were fanning out to search. 

Harry and Ron, meanwhile, were forced to stay where they were. He kicked at the ground, grumbling to himself, and wanting nothing more then to find his wand and go home. Still, Harry was a bit glad that Draco hadn’t followed them, even if it meant his friend hadn’t been willing to help. This was just more trouble then it was worth. 

It was a good twenty minutes before the Auror’s came back. One was shoving an elf forward, the elf that had been saving a seat for her master in the box, even though he had never come. The Auror’s were shouting at the little elf, shouting and snapping, and one wizard was waving something in her face. As they drew closer, Harry’s eyes widened, and he couldn’t stop himself from shouting. 

“That’s my wand!” 

The wizards stopped, turned to look at Harry, and were once again shouting at him. He glared and answered, now getting to explain how he had realized his wand was missing after reaching the safe area by the stadium, and how he, Ron, and Draco had gone back to look for it. He tried to ask him where Draco was, but Harry honestly told them he didn’t know. Probably went to find his parents, or to find someone responsible who could help Harry and Ron if they were murdered by a Dark Wizard. 

Eventually, Harry and Ron were free to go. Though, not before Barty Crouch had sacked his elf, who was left sobbing. It was awful, and Harry tried his best to not think about it as he followed Mr. Weasley back to the tent. When they arrived, it was a mess of shouting and confusion in the Weasley tent, and Harry ignored it all to go back to bed. Just for a little while… 

XxXXxX

The next morning, Harry didn’t go back with the Weasley’s. No, he was woken up by his mother shouting and Padfoot barking, and his father dragging him out of bed. Harry had been half sure he was still dreaming, the way his mother was shouting. 

“You had one job, Arthur!” his mother shouted, as Padfoot growled and barked beside her. “One job! Keep my son safe while he’s out, and I trusted you to do that, because you know who he is! But as soon as he’s put in your care, the bloody event gets trampled by Death Eaters and the Dark Mark is in the sky!” 

“Mrs. Alistair,” Mr. Weasley tried, even as he took a step back. “I did what I could, and Harry is perfectly fine, so-” 

“If you tell me to calm down, I swear to  _ Merlin _ -” She cut off when she spotted Harry. Instantly, she was taking his arm and leading him out of the tent. “Harrison will be coming home with us. Say goodbye to your friends, dear.” 

Harry gave Ron a half hearted wave, and was pulled out of the tent. His mother didn’t wait to get to the Apparition point, and with a pop they were suddenly walking through the gates of the Alistair family grounds. His father and Padfoot weren't far behind. 

When they got inside, the elves were popping in and out around him, bringing tea and breakfast. It was like they thought he had died at some point during the night. He did his best to keep them away, batting away their hands as they tried to smother him in blankets. 

“We’re transferring you to Ilvermorny,” Mama said furiously. “I’ve had enough of your near death experiences, and I can’t handle it! We’re moving to America, and you’re switching schools!” 

“What?” Harry gasped, nearly dropping his tea. “Mom, no! I can’t change schools! I want to stay at Hogwarts!” 

“Why? So you can get killed by Dumbledore’s stupidity? I’m not sending my son to his death!” 

“This wasn’t even my fault,” he whined. “Please, I wasn’t in any danger, and I promise that I won't get into trouble this year, I swear!” 

With an exhausted sigh, his mother dropped into a chair, putting her head into her hands. “I don’t know how much more I can take, Harry… You could have died every year since you started at that school, and I can’t- I can’t see you die. I can’t see any of you die, and it was hard enough when Freya decided to go consorting with dragons, or when Dorian’s leg was smashed to bits, and I-” 

She broke off with a bit of a sob, and Harry wormed his way out of the blankets to kneel in front of her. He had never seen her so worried. Not when he came back from getting the Philosopher’s Stone, nor when he returned from the Chamber of Secrets. And Harry knew he’d joked about how she was getting old and frail, but she truly looked it now. She looked aged beyond her eyes, just from the worry that he had put on her. 

“Mom,” Harry said, taking her hands so she would look at him. “Mom, I promise, this year, I won’t get into any trouble. I promise, if something dangerous happens, I’ll turn and walk away. No hunting escaped prisoners, no magical stones, and no breaking into hidden rooms.” 

Slowly, his mother let out a breath. She forced a melancholy smile, and reached a hand up to smooth out his hair and cup his cheek. “You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep, Harry…” 

But Harry was going to keep this promise. He was going to have a normal year, and he was going to do everything he could to make sure that he did. 

XxXXxX

When Harry was off on the Hogwarts Express, he did his best to help Ron tell Hermione everything he could remember from the Quidditch World Cup. Draco was absent, for whatever reason, but Harry tried his best to not notice as he told Hermione about what happened after. Hermione had read about the Mark in the Prophet, though she didn’t put much stock in Rita Skeeter, who had written the article. 

“And he’s going to sack her?” Hermione said when Ron told her about the elf that had Harry’s wand. “But she didn’t do anything wrong!” 

“Yeah, but that Crouch guy told her to do something and she didn’t,” Ron said. “I mean, it’s his right to sack her if he wants. She’s his servant.” 

“Servant?” she cried. “It sounds more like slavery! I bet Crouch wasn’t even paying her!” 

Harry frowned, talking mostly to himself. “Why would you pay the house elves?” He knew that Dizzy and the other elves were very much against pay. Once, he had tried to give Tikki some spare coins he had, just because he had no need for them, she had burst into tears and asked if he was going to give her clothes next. It took Harry insisting that, no, he wasn’t going to give her clothes, and that he really wanted her to use the coins to buy him some extra chocolate’s from Diagon Alley when the elves went on their next grocery run. It had been a complete lie, but she had eventually calmed down. 

However, Hermione didn’t seem to understand that pay made elves burst into horrible sobbing, and whirled on Harry. “What do you mean,  _ why _ ? Are you saying your family doesn’t pay Dizzy? She’s always running around doing things for you, and you  _ don’t even pay her _ ?!” 

“Yeah,” Harry said, squishing himself back into his seat. “I mean, we don’t pay the other elves either. They don’t want it. Tikki thought I was going to fire her the one time I did give her coins, and that was just a couple of knuts.” 

Hermione spent the rest of the ride absolutely furious with them. She down right refused to speak to them, and only seemed to want to argue about house elf rights. So the conversation was led mostly by Ron and Harry, who talk about some of the extra training that had been crammed into the last three days thanks to the World Cup. Which included a story about Sirius teaching him how to throw a charging attacker over his shoulder, Sirius flying out a broken window, transforming into Padfoot mid air, and slamming into Snape as the professor was approaching the front door.

When they finally reach Hogwarts, thunder clouds rolling over head and fat raindrops beating down on them, Harry was soaked to the bone. He normally got Hermione to put water repelling charms on him when he played Quidditch, but she wasn’t exactly speaking to him at the moment. Grumbling, he squished his way to the Slytherin table, to join the other soaked students. He took his usual spot next to Draco, and across from Blaise and Theo, the latter of who was using his wand to cast what Harry could only assume were drying charms on a soaking wet book. 

They didn’t talk during the sorting, as first years were anxiously called forward. Harry wasn’t really interested in that, though. He didn’t know any of the first years this time. He would next year, when Russell’s daughter Jenna came. That is, if she didn’t go to the school in France, since that’s where she had been living with Maria since the wedding. 

After what seemed like twice as many first years as normal, they were allowed to tuck in as food appeared all across the table. The quiet talks that had gone on during the sorting were now louder, students chatting and talking as Harry dug into his own meal. Blaise excitedly told Harry about his summer, how he was disappointed that he hadn’t been able to go to the World Cup. Draco remained rather quiet, scowling at his potatoes. 

“Hey,” Harry finally said, bumping Draco’s arm to get his attention. “What’s with you?” 

Draco paused, glancing at Harry, before giving his food a rather aggressive stab. “I didn’t think you’d want to talk to me, after the World Cup.” 

Harry frowned. “When Ron and I went after that guy? Can’t really blame you, really. It was dangerous, and, really, I should have stayed back to. My mom was pretty freaked out when I saw her the next morning.” 

Draco glanced at him again, this time in surprise, and looked like he wanted to say something. Only, it was then that Dumbledore called for silence, and stepped forward to the podium. 

“If I may ask once more for your attention,” he said, smiling in his usual manner. “I have a few notices.” 

Harry ignored most of the announcements, instead focusing on eating some of the treacle tart before Crabbe and Goyle took it all. It was just the same old notices as every year. More forbidden items by Filch, the Forbidden forest is out of bounds, introducing the new Defense teacher, yada yada. But it was as Harry was taking a big bite of his favorite dessert that Dumbledore dropped a bombshell. 

“It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year.” 

He choked, thumping his chest as students all around him gave cries of outrage. He stared up at the headmaster, horrified, as he felt dread flood over him. There were only so many reasons Dumbledore would cancel Quidditch. And none of them were good. 

“This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing through the school year, taking up much of the teachers time and energy. But I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts, we are to have the honor of hosting the Triwizard Tournament.” 

Across the hall, one of the twins shouted from his seat. “You’re  _ joking _ !” 

“I am not, Mr. Weasley,” Dumbledore chuckled. “Though I did hear one over the summer about-” 

McGonagall cleared her throat. 

“Er, maybe now isn’t the time. Now, lets see, where was I? Ah, yes, the Triwizard Tournament.” 

Harry listened as Dumbledore explained the tournament. That is, until he heard the words ‘death toll’, and he shut out everything instantly. Nope. He was going to have a normal year. No, he wouldn’t even go to watch the Tournament. He had a promise to keep, and going to watch a death game was just asking for trouble, with his record. 

Eventually, the announcements were over, and the tables cleared. As Slytherin’s all around began to talk about past Triwizard champions, or about competing themselves, Harry went straight for his dorm and went to bed. It would be hard, staying away from the competition, but he was going to do his damned best. 


	5. A Class on Curses

The next morning, after Harry had showered, replaced his concealer, and cast a strong glamour that would last until he could recast it at lunch, Harry went to breakfast to pointedly ignore everything having to do with the tournament. It was very hard, since everyone was either talking about who was going to put their name forward, or about the students coming from the other schools. 

He was glad when he could finally slip away, and made his way to his Friday morning Herbology class. It seemed that, already, this year was going to be very boring for him, as they were collecting pus from Bubotubers. Sure, it was strangely appealing, squeezing the plants until the strange ooze came out, but it was still quite disgusting. One Ravenclaw even threw up. 

“This year is going to be so weird,” Marissa said as she set aside her Bubotuber. “I mean, after everything that happened over the summer, and then the Tournament, this being our first lesson of the year makes it all pretty clear.” 

“I’m not talking about the tournament,” Harry told her pointedly, squeezing his tuber harder to fill another bottle. 

Instantly, Marissa and a few others who had been around him turned to stare. “What? But- Harry! It’s going to be amazing!” 

“I promised mom that I wasn’t going to get into trouble this year. And this tournament is just asking for trouble. Has Hermione started ranting to you about House Elves yet?” 

She thankfully let the topic of the Tournament drop, and confessed that Hermione had accosted her early that morning on the way to breakfast. But Marissa seemed to be the only one to let it go. Everyone who heard that Harry didn’t want anything to do with the tournament were immediately coming up to him to talk about the bloody tournament. They kept asking him why he didn’t want to talk about it, or why he was so against it, or just talking about it in general. 

By the time Harry was going to Defense for second period- God, had it really only been an hour?! -he was about ready to explode. He dropped into a seat in the back, and pointedly putting his bag in the chair next to him. Just… One hour. One hour without the talk about the tournament. That’s all he needed. Then he could sneak into the Chamber to go see Sila instead of going to lunch. 

The new professor, an ex-Auror called Moody, was a rather gruff looking man. His face was scarred and he had a fake eye. For a while, the room was silent, waiting for Moody to arrive, until they hear the thunking of his walking stick and his clawed wooden foot on the floor. He didn’t say much, just telling them to put their books away as he went to his desk. 

As they put away their books, Moody took out a list and started to take roll. His normal eye moved slowly down the list, calling name after name, while his face one swiveled around to fix on each student as they answered his calls. Harry knew, as soon as his name was called, that the eye had to be magical. 

“Harrison Alistair?” Moody called. 

“Here,” Harry said, only for the eye to so pointedly swivel not to his face, but to his forehead. Moody could see through the glamour… 

Thankfully, Moody didn’t say anything. He simply huffed and moved on. His eye continued to swivel around, as if he hadn’t just found the missing Boy Who Lived. That was enough for Harry to decide that he really, really liked this professor.

“Right then,” Moody said, once everyone had been counted. “I got a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you’ve all had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures. Covered Boggarts, Red Caps, Hinkypunks, Grindylows, Kappas, and Werewolves, right?” 

After a general murmur of agreement, Moody continued. “That’s all well and good, but you’re behind, very behind, on dealing with curses. So I’m here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I’ve got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark curses.

“So, straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I’m supposed to teach you countercurses and leave it at that. I’m not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you’re in the sixth year. You’re not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Professor Dumbledore’s got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you’re up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you’ve never seen? A wizard who’s about to put an illegal curse on you isn’t going to tell you what he’s about to do. He’s not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that away, Mr. Nott, when I am talking. I don’t care how interesting you find Victoria Delaware's books, you’ll listen when I speak.” 

On the other side of the room, Theo snapped the book he’d been reading under the desk shut. Harry looked over, not even able to see the book from where he was sitting. So Moody’s eye could see through solid objects, as well as magical glamours. 

“So… Do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?” 

For a moment, no one spoke. Moody’s eye swiveled around, back and forth, in its socket, as if to try and catch the gaze of a student. Then, Blaise raised his hand. Moody pointed at him, even though his eye was still spinning around. 

“The Imperius Curse,” Blaise said, looking more straight faced then Harry had ever seen him. He was such a relaxed guy, most of the time. He liked to joke and flirt with girls, not sit like he was a soldier about to be court-martialed. 

“Ah, yes,” Moody said, his magical eye seeming to swivel all around, pausing for just brief seconds on some students. “Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse.” 

Getting to his feet, Moody pulled out a glass jar from his desk. It was holding three large spiders, witch scuttled around as Moody opened the jar, reaching inside. When he caught one, he held it in the palm of his hand for everyone to see, before pulling out his wand. “ _ Imperio _ !” 

In a second, the spider left from Moody’s hand on a thin line of thread and began to swing back and forth. It stretched its legs, did a backflip, and broke the thread to land on Moody’s desk. The spider began to turn cartwheels in circles, until Moody gave a jerk of his wand and it jumped to its back legs into what was unmistakably a tap dance. 

Harry, honestly, thought that it was quite funny. But he didn’t laugh. No one in the room was. In fact, most of his classmates looked uncomfortable. Draco and Theo had even gone very pale. 

“Don’t think its funny, do you?” Moody growled. “You wouldn’t like it, then, if I did it to you?” 

Harry was starting to rethink his earlier thought about Moody. He wasn’t sure he wanted to enjoy the presence of a man that could be so cruel. 

“Total control,” Moody continued, as he made the spider ball itself up and roll around on the desk. “I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats… Years back, there were lots of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse. Some job for the Ministry, trying to figure out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own will. 

“The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I’ll be teaching you how. But it takes real strength of character, and not everyone’s got it. Better to avoid being hit with it if you can.  _ Constant vigilance _ !” 

Everyone jumped at the sudden bark, even Harry, and Moody tossed the spider back into the jar. 

“Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?” When no one moved, or even looked up, Moody made a sort of grumbling growl, and pulled another spider out of the jar and starting to enlarge it. “Then why don’t I tell you. The Cruciatus Curse.  _ Crucio _ !” 

Immediately, the spider’s legs tucked in and it began to twitch and rock from side to side. There was no sound, and Harry wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse, since he knew that if it had a voice it would have been screaming. When Moody didn’t pull away his wand, the spider began to shake and jerk violently. 

“Stop,” Harry said, his soft words seeming to echo in the silent room. 

Moody looked at him, and raised his wand. The spider’s legs relaxed, but it was still twitching, even as Moody shrank it down and returned it to it’s jar. 

“Pain,” Moody explained. “You don’t need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse. The one was popular once, too. Now, there’s one more. Who knows it?” 

Harry had a feeling he knew what was next. Taking away someone’s freedom, torturing them… These curses were the most evil of evils, but there was one more. One that Harry actually knew. 

“Avada Kedavra,” Harry said, ignoring the way some of his housemates jump and turn to look at him. “The Killing Curse. The last one is the Killing Curse...” 

“Ah,” Moody said, with the smallest of smiles twisting his lips. “Yes, you would know that one, wouldn’t you? Yes, the last and the worst… The Killing Curse.” 

Reaching into the jar, Moody trapped the last spider and pulled it from the jar. When he set it on the desk, it tried to flee, as if it knew what was coming. Harry knew to, and closed his eyes as Moody raised his wand once again. 

“ _ Avada Kedavra _ !” 

The flash of green shown through his eyelids, and he gripped the edge of his desk. He could almost hear the cries of Lily in his ears, calling his name as that same flash of green played in his memories. There were a few gasps, and he was fairly sure one of the girls had screamed, making his memories all the more vivid. 

“Not nice,” Moody said, much to calm for the situation.“ Not pleasant. And there’s no countercurse. There’s no blocking it. Only one known person has ever survived it.” 

Moody, thankfully, didn’t say anything, but he could feel at least one of Moody’s eyes on him. He clenched the desk harder, doing his best to take deep breaths and calm himself. It would be bad if he suddenly broke down. It would do nobody any good. But Moody was speaking again, and Harry had to force himself to listen. 

“The Killing Curse is a curse that needs a powerful bit of magic behind it to work. You all could get your wands out right now and say the words, and I doubt I’d get much more then a nosebleed. But that doesn’t matter. I’m not here to teach you how to do it.

“Now, if there’s no counter curse, why am I showing you?  _ Because you need to know _ . You’ve got to anticipate what the worst is. You don’t want to find yourself in a situation where you’re facing it.  _ Constant vigilance _ !

“Now, those three curses- Killing, Imperious, and Cruciatus -are known as the Unforgivable Curses. The use of any of these on a fellow human being is enough to earn a life sentence in Azkaban. That’s what you’re up against. That's what I’ve got to teach you to fight. You need preparing. You need arming. But most of all, you need to practice  _ constant, never ceasing vigilance _ . Get out your quills… Copy this down.” 

They spent the rest of the class taking notes on each of the three curses. Harry didn’t speak, and neither did the rest of the class. Once the bell rang, they were all gathering up their things and hurrying from the room in a rush of hushed voices. 

No one came up to him, thankfully, as he laid the strap of his bag over his shoulder and headed for Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. But he could hear them. He could hear Parkinson and the other girls whispering and pointing at him. ‘How would he know about the Killing Curse?’ ‘Moody made it sound like he’s seen it before.’ Even Blaise was whispering to Theo. ‘Wonder why the most innocent of us knows the worst curse.’ 

Harry ignored them all. The whispers and mutters, as he went to Myrtle’s bathroom. He just wanted some quiet. Some time alone in the Chamber while he got his thoughts organized…


	6. A Lesson in Imperius

Sila was always happy to see him. She had asked about what it was like, where he lived, and Harry spent most of his lunch sitting on the massive blanket nest Hagrid had made her last year, leaning back against her scaly side as she curled around him. The quiet space was good for writing letters home to his mother, and for reading the one’s she returned. 

She wasn’t all that happy about the tournament, but there was nothing she could do about it. The tournament was happening. It was at least good that Dumbledore had done  _ something _ right by adding an age restriction. Moody’s classes, on the other had, were another thing entirely. His mother was actually  _ pleased _ Moody was teaching them about the dangers of the Unforgivables. As a defense teacher, he was the only one who could do so legally. Though it did trouble her that he was able to cast them so easily, even on spiders. 

Really, Harry could spend all day in the Chamber, writing and reading letters while leaned up against the basilisk. Sila was so gentle and sweet with him, like he was a hatchling that she was meant to nurture. Harry felt like he could fall asleep here, and sleep for a hundred years. But he had to go to classes… 

“ _ Must you go, little one? _ ” Sila asked as he went to the tunnel that would let him out by the Charms corridor. “ _ You have just returned… And you have not been with me long, today. _ ” 

“ _ I have classes, _ ” Harry tried to explain. “ _ People will worry if I don’t show up. Besides, some classes teach me things I need to know to protect myself. _ ” 

“ _ I can protect you, _ ” she told him. “ _ But if you must… you must. _ ” 

“ _ I’ll be back soon, _ ” he promised. “ _ And I’ll be here a lot this year, I’m sure. _ ” 

And he hadn’t been lying. He returned to the Chamber often, learning to pick up sandwiches from the kitchens in the morning before his first class. Most of his lunches were spent down there, just sitting with Sila and talking with her. He learned a lot about her over the next few weeks. 

He learned that Salazar himself had hatched her, over a thousand years ago. She had been barely bigger then a cobra when he brought her down here, and in the years leading up to Slytherin's departure from the school, she had grown to full size. When he had left, he put a sleeping charm on her, so that she would sleep until someone could return for her. 

She also told him about Tom Riddle. Not the book phantom that had possessed Ginny and Draco. The real one, who went to Hogwarts nearly fifty years ago. Apparently, Riddle had woken her from her sleep, and when she tried to speak to him, he had snapped at her. He told her that there were mudbloods in the school, which she took to mean traitors. She had done what he said for a long time, until she found out that what she was doing was bringing the end of her true masters beloved school. She had refused to attack again, until Riddle had become furious, and cursed her to follow his command. 

Then Myrtle had died, and Riddle blamed Hagrid. He cast her aside, leaving her alone and awake in the chamber. For decades, she had survived on mere scraps, animals that had wandered into the Chamber through holes much to small for her to fit through. So, when Riddle had appeared in the form of Ginny, she was too weak to fight him. She fell to his control once again. 

That is, until Harry came. Little Harry, the speaker who was so small, yet so strong. 

His housemates always asked where he went during lunch and weekends, but Harry never told them. He was pretty sure Draco knew, and Ron definitely did, the redhead even joining him a few times. Hermione was always busy, off in the library doing something that she wouldn’t tell anyone. 

But as the weeks went on, Harry’s classes started getting dramatically more difficult and demanding. Professors like McGonagall and Flitwick were giving out longer assignments, and Snape was having them do more solo brewing instead of paired. Hagrid’s Care for Magical Creatures class had them taking care of these strange and dangerous things that Harry were fairly sure weren’t natural. 

The most difficult class, even with Hagrid’s ‘blast ended skrewts’, had to be Moody’s Defense course, simply because Moody announced he would be putting the Imperius Curse on them to see if they could resist its effects. None of the Slytherin’s seemed to want to argue with Moody, some even seeming a bit afraid of him, and Harry wasn’t going to either. Moody did, however, give them an out. If they didn’t want to learn if they could resist it here, in their supposedly safe school environment, then they could learn when someone’s putting it on them. 

No one left. 

So, Moody started calling the Slytherin’s up one by one. Harry could only watch as each of his classmates were forced to imitate animals and do such embarrassing things. No one was able to resist, and Harry wished that he could just make Moody stop. That he could take his classmates places and let it be done. He wanted this class to be over, to not have to watch was Blaise was forced to bark like a dog and roll on the floor. 

“Alistair,” Moody finally growled, once all the other Slytherin’s had been thoroughly embarrassed. “You next.” 

Harry swallowed, and moved forward. He didn't miss the way Theo was looking at him with worry, or the look of ‘Don’t worry, we won’t think less of you’ that Blaise seemed to have. It made Harry’s ears turn pink, because Harry was starting to realize something about his Slytherin friends. They didn’t think that his dangerous encounters over the years had been survived by his own skill and merit. They thought he was ‘the sweet one’. The one that was to kind of his own good and far to gentle. They thought he was weak. 

But Harry knew better. He had been practicing defense spells they couldn’t even imagine. He was a beginner at Occlumency. And he was going to pass where they had failed. 

When Moody cast the Imperius curse, Harry had already cleared his mind. He could feel the strange feeling of bliss worming its way through his mental shields, standing out in the emptiness he had made his mind to be. Moody’s voice stood out even more. 

_ Jump onto the desk _ , Moody's voice said, slipping in through the cracks in his mind.  _ Jump onto the desk _ . 

_ But why? _ Harry thought, even as his knees bent, just a little.  _ Stupid thing to do _ . 

_ Jump onto the desk. _

_ No, _ Harry thought.  _ No, I don’t want to.  _

_ Jump! Now!  _

The booming thoughts were suddenly forced out of his head as the wind was suddenly knocked from him. He had tried to jump, even as he tried to stop himself, and ended up practically belly flopping onto the edge of the desk and knocking it over. His stomach hurt, and he groaned as he fell to the floor. 

“Now  _ that’s _ more like it!” Moody boomed, the blissful feeling leaving his mind as the curse was lifted and the pain in his stomach doubled. “Look at that, you lot! Alistair fought! He fought it, and he damn near beat it! We’ll try again, Alistair, and the rest of you, pay attention. Watch his eyes, that’s where you can see it! Very good, Alistair, very good indeed! They’ll have trouble controlling  _ you _ !” 

Before Harry could argue, tell the professor he would rather go see Madam Pomfrey, Moody was casting again. He was slammed into the desk, over and over, the pain slowly getting to him until he almost gave up. But he continued to fight, until he was able to throw off the curse completely. 

He didn’t go down to be with Sila that afternoon. Instead, he went with the other Slytherin’s back to the dormitory. They were all giving him a mix of pitying and shocked looks. None of them had thought he could do it, and some seemed to still think he wasn’t as strong as he was. 

“Need help getting to the hospital wing?” Blaise asked, as he frowned at Harry. “You were hitting that table pretty hard.” 

“I’m fine,” Harry said, though not quite with as much fire as he meant. 

Draco was the only one not treating him like he did everything with dumb luck. “Harrison,” he said, jabbing at Harry’s bruised stomach with a finger. “You’re mortal, just like the rest of us. I’m sure you could use the rest.” 

And, really, Draco was the only one Harry wasn’t really angry at. He swatted Draco's hand away, and grumbled as he went up to the Hospital wing. It turned out to be the right thing to do, since Pomfrey was able to give him a potion that helped settle his stomach. She wasn't happy about it though, since he was far from the first student to go to her for help after Moody’s class. 

When he was finally let go, Harry went to lunch in the Great Hall. Or, he had tried. Ron and Hermione were arguing in the doorway, and when Ron spotted Harry over Hermione’s shoulder, he made a quick gesture that Harry could only take to mean ‘run away’. Sadly, this only drew Hermione’s attention to him, and she whirled around to face him. 

“Harry!” she called, just as he was starting to back away. “Harry, I’ve been looking all over for you!” 

Feeling that it would be silly to run now that she knew he was there, Harry gave up and walked over. “I just got out of Moody’s class. And I’m guessing you just came from the Library?” 

Hermione beamed, reaching into her back to pull out a leaf of paper. She shoved it in Harry’s face, who took a step back to get a real look at it, only to raise his brow. 

“‘Spew’?” 

“Not ‘spew’,” she huffed, waving the paper and looking proud of herself. “S.P.E.W! Stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare.” 

“She’s gone mad, Harry,” Ron mock whispered, though Harry knew Hermione could hear him. 

Deciding, once again, that it would be better to keep himself out of Hermione’s line of fire, Harry took the leaflet. “Guess this is what you’ve been doing in the library? What’s it for?” 

“Our short term aims are to secure house elves fair wages and working conditions,” she explained, rummaging in her bag for something else. “Our long term goals include changing the law about no wand use, and getting an elf into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. They’re shockingly underrepresented.” 

Harry closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. It was clear that this conversation was going to end one of two ways. He either agreed with Ron, and told Hermione the truth that this was crazy and pointless, which would make Hermione angry with him for at least a month while she struggled to do this alone. Or, he pretended that he agreed with Hermione, and have Dizzy suddenly forget to put his laundry back in his room when he was home for the holidays, or keep putting out the fire that kept his wing of the house warm at night. 

So Harry had a choice. Face Hermione’s wrath now, or face Dizzy’s later? The choice was very, very simple. 

“Look, Hermione,” Harry said as he handed the leaflet back. “I want to help you, I do, but I can’t. You seem to think that just because the elves aren’t getting paid that they aren’t being treated fairly, and I guess that might be true in some places, you know that isn’t how it really is. You’ve met Dizzy. She’s hardworking, and sometimes, I’m pretty sure she has more power over the house then my mom does.” 

“She deserves to be paid,” Hermione snapped. “She deserves holidays and welcome working conditions.” 

“She has what she wants. She gets to have holidays when no one is at the house, which is, honestly, most winters and every spring. We don’t bully her, and if we were paying her for what she does, Mom would fire her for the way she shouts when someone accidentally tracks in mud.” 

“See, ‘Mione?” Ron said, giving Harry a thankful look. “The Alistair’s treat their elves  _ too _ good. Just drop it, okay?” 

Her face screwed up, nose scrunching as she glared at them. “You’re helping the oppression and subjugation of an entire species Harry. Just so you can have your sheets changed at night.” 

Harry wanted to tell her that it was so his sheets weren’t the only ones not changed in the Slytherin dorms. But she had turned and was storming off before Harry could get another word in. He turned to Ron, a bit lost as to what to do. 

“Girls,” Ron only said with a shrug. “They’re crazy.” 

Sometimes, Harry couldn’t help but agree.


	7. We Champions Three

When the other schools arrived Harry had tried to get himself excused. He had asked Snape, saying he could just wait in the dorms, but all the teachers seemed to have gone crazy. Snape had hissed at him, telling him that he was going to join the others. It probably didn’t help that it was the 30th of October, the day before Lily died. 

So there Harry was, standing in a line with the other Slytherin’s. Every time he slouched, Snape would slap his shoulders with a rolled up potions book, or McGonagall would spot him and snap. He could barely breathe, his tie squeezed around his neck, tighter then he ever wore it. The other Slytherin’s were much the same way, though they looked more regal then ‘I can’t breathe, someone loosen my tie’. 

Eventually, Dumbledore called out from where he was standing in the back with the teachers. “Aha! Unless I am mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!” 

As first years began to shout and point, Harry subtly reached up and loosened his tie. He pointedly ignored the way Blaise was barely holding back snickers beside him, or the way Draco let out an exasperated sigh. 

Above the forest, Harry could see a shadowy shape approaching. He squinted at it, frowning as it was rushing into clearity. It was a carriage, about the size of a house, and colored a powdery blue. It was being pulled by at least a dozen winged horses, all of them as big as elephants, and about as loud as elephants to. 

When the carriage came hurtling down, the massive hooves of the horses cluttered on the stones, the three front lines of students were scrambling back. The horses tossed their heads, the carriage bouncing to a halt behind them. Harry was just close enough to see that the massive horses had eyes that were red like fire, and he took a step back. Nothing good ever came from things with red eyes…

The door to the carriage popped open, almost as soon as it had stopped. A boy in a pale blue uniform hopped out, bent down, and tugged out a set of golden stairs. The boy bounced back, standing more like a butler then a boy, as the largest woman Harry had ever seen stepped out. A few people gasped, but Harry just stared. He’d only ever seen one person that large, and that was Hagrid. 

“My dear Madame Maxime,” Dumbledore said, sweeping forward to take her hand and kiss, though he barely had to lean forward to do so. “Welcome to Hogwarts.” 

“Dumbly-dorr,” Maxime said, her voice deeper then Harry had expected. “I ‘ope I find you well?” 

“In excellent form, I thank you.” 

She idley waved a hand behind her, calling her students out of the carriage. The dozen or so boys and girls that came out of the carriage were shivering. It wasn’t surprising, though, as it looked like their clothes were made of fine silk instead of a warmer material. A few had scarves or shawls wrapped around their shoulders, looking up at Hogwarts castle with unease. 

“‘As Karkaroff arrived yet?” Maxime asked. 

“He should arrive any moment,” Dumbledore explained. “But I’m sure you would rather step inside and warm up. Unless you would like to wait here and greet him?” 

“We will warm up,” Maxime said. “But ‘ze ‘orses-” 

The two headmasters got into a bit of an argument about the Beauxbatons horses, but it was settled and the group of blue clad teens were led inside by Maxime. There was a bit of quiet murmuring as the Hogwarts students were waiting for the Durmstrang group to arrive. Harry honestly didn’t care. It was getting cold, and he wanted to go inside and eat. 

Eventually, there was a shout to look at the lake, and everyone was turning to watch as a whirl pool seemed to open in the normally smooth water. A ship mast appeared first, and was soon followed by the rest of the ship. It bobbed on the water's surface, eventually settling to let a plank drop. Students came out, climbing the hills, only for girls and boys alike start to gasp and chatter. Victor Krum was among the Durmstrang students. 

Harry ignored the squeals and gasps he heard, rolling his eyes as he was finally able to go back inside. Everyone was piling into the Great Hall, were the Beauxbaton students had taken spots at the Ravenclaw table. He could see Marissa slide in next to one of the girls, trying to make conversation. The Durmstrang students seemed to fan out a bit more, but Krum and some of the Durmstrang boys clustered together around Harry and Draco at the Slytherin table. 

“Draco Malfoy,” Draco was saying, reaching out to take Krum’s hand. “Slytherin fourth year.” 

“Victor Krum,” Krum said, his face set in a stern expression, even as he shook Draco’s hand. 

“I know. Harrison and I saw you at the World Cup.” 

The expression flickered, to something Harry could just barely recognize. He was sure that he had made that expression every time someone had called him a Potter since he’d become an Alistair. But as soon as it had appeared, it was gone once more. 

“I’m Harry,” he tried, holding out a hand to Krum to shake. “We’re not playing this year, but I’m the Slytherin Quidditch captain. I could probably get the pitch for a while if you want to fly around. We can toss a Quaffle around. Draco and my cousin are pretty good Chasers.” 

“You’re a Chaser then?” Krum asked, seeming somewhat uninterested. 

“Not really. I’m the Seeker, but I like to fly just for fun. There are other things you can do, if you’re not interested in going to the pitch. I’m sure there will be a Hogsmeade weekend soon, or I could show you the kitchens.” 

Krum looked at him with interest, eyeing him. Then he nodded, and they turned to the front table as the staff came out to their table. The Beauxbaton students all jumped to attention when Madam Maxime appeared. Harry couldn’t imagine ever doing that for Dumbledore, especially with the unembarrassed way the Beauxbaton students did for Maxime.

“Good evening,” Dumbledore called out, beaming at everyone. “Ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and, most importantly, guests. I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I trust and hope that your stay here will be comfortable and enjoyable. The tournament will officially open at the end of the feast, so I invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!” 

As the food appeared, Krum asked Harry about the different dishes that were on the table. The elves had clearly outdone themselves, with half of the dishes that appeared clearly foreign. Krum even recognized a few, and told Harry what they were. 

Draco seemed a bit sulky, clearly displeased that Krum wasn’t asking him questions. Harry guessed he could understand why, since Draco was clearly a fan of Krum like Ron was. Harry just didn’t really care. Krum was a person just like he was, and he deserved to be treated as such. 

“You are excited for the Tournament?” Krum asked, making Harry pause. 

“No, actually. See, I have this habit of getting into trouble, and it’s putting a lot of strain on my mom. So I’m staying as far from it as I can.” Starting to lose his appetite, Harry poked at his plate, and dropped his eyes to his plate. “Afraid she’ll die before I graduate at this rate… Probably have a heart attack the next time I end up in the hospital wing…” 

Krum chuckled, seeming to take it as a joke, even though Malfoy looked over at him in complete shock. But they continued on with the meal, Krum thankfully not bringing up the Tournament again. He even ended most talk about the Tournament quickly. The guy may look hard on the outside, but he was pretty nice. 

After dessert, where more dishes Harry didn’t know appeared, the tables were cleared and Dumbledore was standing once again. He started talking about how the tournament would work, and how the champions would be chosen. Harry, already knowing he didn’t give two shits, instead picked at a loose thread on his robes, wondering if he could sneak out early. He could go visit Sila! 

Eventually, Dumbledore finished his speech about age lines and fiery cups, and they were all free to go. Krum gave Harry a nod before he was on his way out with Karkaroff and the rest of Durmstrang. 

Harry didn’t even look at the cup that now occupied the Sorting Hat’s usual spot as he left. 

XxXXxX

The next day, Harry was rather disappointed that his Halloween tea time with Snape was cut short. After classes and all the Tournament prep, Snape barely had the time to sit for even an hour. Even then, it was mostly to make sure Harry was keeping up on his studies and to complain about Dumbledore. 

When the feast rolled around, Harry was grumpy, and considered skipping it entirely. 

“Oh, come on Harry!” Ron said, nudging him with his elbow in an attempt to cheer him up. “You gotta go. At least to see Krum get chosen! I can’t believe you got to eat with him last night.” 

“He’s just a person, Ron,” Harry said, but conceded as he went to the Great Hall. 

Krum, once again, came to sit with them at the Slytherin table. Harry, remembering what Ron had said about Krum possibly being chosen, wished him luck. Draco followed suit, and started talking about some of the possible champions for Hogwarts. Mainly Cassius Warrington, probably the only Slytherin to put his name forward. 

The feast seemed to drag on, much longer then Harry ever remembered it being. It could be that he just wasn’t interested in any of the conversation going on at the table, but it could also be the fact that it was their second feast in a row. Harry felt stuffed, like he’d eaten twice as much as normal by the end. 

As the tables cleared once again, Harry waited with the rest of the school for the Goblet of Fire to choose the champions. Eventually, the flames inside the cup changed from blue to red, and jumped into the air. A charred piece of paper came shooting out, only to be snatched by Dumbledore. 

“The champion for Durmstrang,” he read, voice loud and clear in the batted silence, “will be Viktor Krum!” 

There were cheers and applause from not only Karkaroff and the Durmstrang teens, but the rest of the students as well. Harry even clapped, just for his new friend, as Krum got up from his seat and marched up to the staff table. He walked along the table, and disappeared through a door. 

When the applause died down, everyone was focused once more on the goblet. As if it had been waiting, it spat out another piece of paper. It fluttered through the air, plucked from the air by Dumbledore once more. 

“The champion for Beauxbatons… is Fleur Delacour!” 

One of the girls got up from the Ravenclaw table, leaving at least two of the other Beauxbatons girls in tears. Once again, the room burst into applause, noticeably from mostly male students, until she disappeared behind the door. And, for the final time, the Goblet shot out another piece of paper. 

“The Hogwarts champion,” Dumbledore said, “is Cedric Diggory!” 

The room was filled with a roar of applause and cheering from the Hufflepuff table. Harry could hear some of the Slytherin’s grumble in annoyance. Still, Harry clapped as Diggory went back. He was a nice enough guy, though Harry had only met him a few times. The applause lasted for quite a while, even after Diggory had gone through the door, the Hufflepuffs screaming and stomping. Harry could even see Ron jumping up and down. 

“Excellent!” Dumbledore finally called, once everyone had quieted down. “Well, now we have our three champions. I’m sure they can count on you, even the remaining Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students, to give your champions every bit of support you can. By cheering for your champion, you will contribute in a very real-” 

Behind Dumbledore, the cup had gone red once more. Harry felt his stomach churn, watching as the flames jumped once more, spitting out a fourth piece of paper. Dumbledore reached out, taking it from the air. Silence dragged on as the headmaster looked down at the slip, and Harry prayed that this had nothing to do with him. Someone was just… pulling a prank. This had  _ nothing _ to do with him. 

Finally, Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Harrison Alistair.” 

“Fuck.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you guys may have noticed, but I finally have a chapter count for GoF! That is because I finally finished GoF! And I have now moved on to OotP. Which... is bringing lots of questions to the front of my mind. Like weather Harry really will become an Animagus, what his form would be, and... Well, he still hasn't cast a full Patronus! Anyway, as I'm figuring this all out, I'm curious what you guys think!


	8. And Harry Makes Four

Everyone had turned to face Harry, who was trying to make himself disappear. He didn’t want to be in this bloody competition. He didn’t want his mother  _ hearing  _ about this. Who knows what would happen! 

After a moment, as McGonagall got up to whisper to Dumbledore, the headmaster called out again. 

“Harrison Alistair!” he called again. “Harrison, if you could please come up here!” 

Harry swallowed and tried to slouch himself into non existence. One of the Slytherin’s gave him a push, and he almost fell out of his seat. Squeezing his eyes closed, he got up and made his way up to the staff table.It was the longest walk Harry had ever taken, with staff and students alike openly gapping at him. 

“Well,” Dumbledore said, once Harry had come to a stop in front of him. “Through the door, Harry.” 

Slowly, Harry walked along the staff table, trying to meet Snape's eyes, but not able to as he walked by. His mentor and Head of House has such a look of fury… So Harry just kept walking, opening the door to the room the three champions had gone into. He stepped inside, ignoring the way the portraits in the little room immediately turned to face him. 

The three champions were all around the fire, casting dark shadows across the room as Harry came in. Krum was standing to the side, arms crossed and leaning against the mantle. He was standing a bit away from the other two, who were standing silently and formally. When they heard him come in, they all turned. 

“What is it?” Delacour asked. “Do zey want us back in ze Hall?” 

He didn’t know how to tell her that he wasn’t there to deliver a message. But Diggory and Krum seemed to be studying him. They, at least, seemed to understand what was happening without Harry having to explain. That, at least, was good. 

The door behind him boomed open, and the man in charge of the Tournament came scurrying up to him. “Extraordinary! Absolutely amazing! Gentlemen, lady… May I introduce to you the  _ fourth  _ Triwizard champion!” 

“Oh,” Delacour said after a moment. “Oh, vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman.” 

“Joke?” the man, Bagman, asked in bewilderment. “No, no, no! Not at all. Harrison’s name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!” 

“But zair ‘as to be a mistake,” she pressed, tense. “‘E is too young!” 

“I don’t want to compete,” Harry added, making Bagman stare at him. “I didn’t put in my name, and I won’t compete.” 

Bagman blinked, staring at him as if he were mad. But Harry couldn’t compete. He had promised, and he wanted to keep that promise. His mother was just one incident away from a real breakdown, and this, by far, had to be the most dangerous thing he would do. The Tournament had been banned because of  _ death tolls _ . He could seriously  _ die _ , and that wasn’t going to be good for his mothers health. 

The other staff members came in, then, and everyone seemed to ignore him. Maxime and Karkaroff were all arguing with Dumbledore, while Delacour was demanding answers. Snape was scowling, clearly deep in thought and brooding. Krum, meanwhile, moved to stand by Harry, looking down at him. 

Harry, instead of listening, was deep in his own thoughts. This was too complex to be a prank, so it couldn’t have been a student. But then, why would an adult want to put him into the Tournament? Probably to get him killed. Well, as far as he knew, no one wanted Harrison Alistair dead. But he could think of a few who wanted Harry Potter dead. 

“Harry,” Dumbledore said, far to calm. “Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?” 

“No,” Harry said, eyeing Dumbledore. Maybe this wasn’t a plot to kill him. Maybe it was to force him into the roll of ‘Harry Potter’. It was insane enough that Harry wouldn’t put it past Dumbledore. Not to mention that there was a very short list of people in the castle that knew who he was and could have done it. And none of them, as far as Harry knew, wanted him dead. 

“Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?” 

“No,” Harry hissed. 

Maxime threw up her hands. “Ah, but ‘e is lying! Of course ‘e is!” 

“He did not want to join,” Krum cut in. “He did not even want to speak about the Tournament.” 

“Exactly!” Harry said. “I don’t want to compete. So, can I just go back to my dorm?” 

For a moment, there was a glance around as each of the adults tried to figure out what to do. It was clear the Maxime and Karkaroff wanted him gone, and Snape and McGonagall seemed to agree that they didn’t want him in the Tournament, either. The two others, Crouch and Bagman, though… They were both looking at each other in a way that told Harry he was going to be in the tournament, whether he wanted to be or not. 

“We must follow the rules,” Crouch said, his voice as blunt as ever. “And the rules state, quite clearly, that those whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the Tournament.” 

Much to Harry’s horror, Bagman nodded in agreement. “Barty does know the rule book, cover to cover.” 

“Then I insist on resubmitting the names of my students,” Karkaroff snarled. “You will set up the Goblet of Fire again, and we will continue putting in names until each school has two champions. It is only fair.” 

Harry took a deep breath, doing his best to tune out the adults as he tried to figure out what he was going to do. He would need to write his mother. Tell her what had happened before word got to her somehow. Maybe he should write to his father first? He could tell her for Harry, make sure nothing bad happened… 

He’d have to also tell them his thoughts on who put him in. He wouldn’t put it past Dumbledore to be using this some way. The crazy old man hadn’t done anything to out Harry recently, but the facts were stacked against him. He put Harry with the Dursley’s, didn’t help Sirius all those years ago, and then there was the vault, the sorting, letting  _ Peter Pettigrew escape _ . But there were still people that wanted Harry dead and knew where to find him, Pettigrew being a perfect example. And, if the rat had found Voldemort, any number of Death Eaters could know who he was. 

Krum gave Harry a rough nudge with his elbow, knocking him out of his thoughts. Crouch was speaking again, this time to them. Honestly, Harry should start paying attention to the Tournament talk… He’d have to be careful.

“-designed to test your daring,” Crouch was saying. “So we won’t be telling you exactly what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is a very important quality for a wizard. And we will see just how courageous you all are on Monday, the twenty first, in front of the panel of judges, and the other students. 

“The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests.”

As soon as they were dismissed, Delacour under the arm of Madam Maxime and Karkaroff leading Krum away, Harry was left to walk down the hall towards the dungeons with Cedric. The halls were barren, every student clearly having been sent back to their dorms. The silence was only disturbed by Cedric. 

“So,” Cedric said with a bit of a smile as he looked down at Harry. “We’re playing against each other again. Just not as two rival Seeker Captain’s on the pitch.” 

“Yeah,” Harry sighed, kicking at the ground a little as he walked. “Wish it was still just the pitch instead of this mess…” 

“You really don’t want to be a champion,” Cedric mused. “When Krum said so, I was a bit surprised.” 

“My mom is gonna…” Harry trailed off, looking up at the ceiling as if it held the answers he needed. “Don’t know what she’s gonna do… Could be a heart attack, I s’pose… After all the things I’ve done, and then almost getting trampled at the World Cup, she’s not exactly at her best. At the end of the rope with how much she can take from me..” 

“Oh, yeah… Mrs. Alistair is getting up there in years, isn’t she? She’s got to be at least fifty five by now.” 

“Sixty one, actually.” 

Cedric stopped, his eyes wide as he stared openly at Harry. “You’re kidding! No wonder she’s at the end of her rope, the poor woman. You’re always nearly dying.” He paused. “Honestly, I’m surprised your name didn’t come out before mine.” 

“Think someone’s trying to kill me,” Harry grumbled darkly. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” 

“You’ll do alright, Alistair,” Cedric reassured, stopping as they reached the door to the Hufflepuff Common Room. “You’re a good kid, and I’ll give you all the help I can to make sure you get through this. All you have to do is ask.” 

Harry wanted to tell him that he wasn’t a kid, that he probably knew more about defending himself then Cedric did, but none of that came out. Instead, he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers and started to stomp his way back to the Slytherin Common Room. He was starting to feel like he needed to be in this stupid Tournament, just to prove that he wasn’t some incompetent little kid. 

When he reached the common room, most of his housemates were still up, lounging on sofas or just standing around the room. They all turned when he entered, though no one spoke. Most of the Slytherin’s from the older years were looking at him with pity, while the younger students were looking at him with fear. He hadn’t been present very much in the common room this year, but he had always treated the younger students kindly, helping them study or just giving them advice, which was far different from how most Slytherin’s either barely spoke to the younger years or ignored them completely. 

“Harry,” Blaise called when he came in. “You get out of the tournament?” 

“No,” he sighed, running a hand over his face. He needed to write that letter, and go to bed… 

“Oh, Alistair,” Greengrass said, putting a hand to her cheek. “Are you going to be okay? The Tournament is so dangerous…” 

“He’ll be fine,” Draco said. “Won’t you, Harrison?” 

Harry could hear the worry in Draco’s voice, though, and he did his best to smile. “Yeah. Really, I think I’ll be fine. But I’m really tired, so I’m going to bed.” 

They didn’t stop him as he fled to the fourth year boys dormitory. He could use a good night's sleep, and it wasn’t like he could send Hedwig with a letter right now anyway. It could wait until morning…


	9. Weighing of the Wands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and anything else you celebrate!

Harry woke up the next morning feeling more tired then he had when he fell asleep. He had dreamed of burning cups and his mothers sobs. He really didn’t want to go to classes, but he forced himself out of bed and went through his morning routine. Shower, concealer, glamour, teeth, hair. Just a bit of normalcy would hopefully keep him sane. 

He ended up getting breakfast in the Kitchens that morning, taking hard boiled eggs and some toast down to the Chamber to eat. He could write a letter to his mother down there, without being bothered, and he would have to tell Sila about the tournament, in case he did die. She deserved to know why he wouldn’t be around as much again. 

“ _ Little speaker has returned, _ ” Sila hissed when he entered. “ _ You are very early, little Harry. _ ” 

“ _ I got up not that long ago, _ ” he explained, taking a seat at the homemade table Hagrid had put in. “ _ So, yeah, I’m early. A lot of stuff happened last night, and I just needed to get away from everyone. _ ” 

“ _ Will you tell me what is wrong, little one? _ ” 

Harry shook his head in exasperation, pulling out some parchment and a quill. “ _ Someone put my name in the death tournament. I have to do some sort of test of courage in two weeks. It’s supposed to be really dangerous. _ ” 

Silla gave a soft hiss, moving to coil around the table and rested her massive head on part of table. It creaked and groaned under the weight, but anything built by Hagrid was going to be sturdy. He let out a sigh, starting to scratch out a letter to his parents, Sila hissing at him every once in a while. 

Out of everyone in the castle, Sila was probably the only one Harry would let call him a child or ‘little one’. She was over a thousand years old, and she was way, way bigger then him. Plus, he was quite literally the youngest being she knows. Other then Ginny Weasley, that is. 

Eventually, it was time to go, and Harry made his way through one of the few tunnels he had labeled. He followed the blinking yellow lights that Hermione had transfigured and charmed for him the year before, eventually coming to the exit that opened up behind a tapestry. It wasn’t exactly in the hallway with Mcgonagall’s Transfiguration class, but it was close enough. 

“Harry,” he heard after he had closed the Chamber passage and set out. “Harry, there you are!” 

He paused, turning to look over his shoulder. Hermione was running towards him with Ron, both looking a bit concerned. 

“Harry, mate, I’m sorry,” Ron was saying before he could speak. “I didn’t know that the Hufflepuff’s could get so angry!” 

“What?” he said, very confused. “What’s going on?” 

Ron and Hermione shared a look, clearly confused. 

“Harry,” Hermione said, slowly. “Nearly all the non-Slytherin’s have been talking about you all morning. And not in a good way… The Weasley’s, your family, Neville, and myself are probably the only ones from Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor not out to get you. 

“Yay, mate,” Ron said. “We thought that’s why you weren’t at breakfast. Because you heard what most of the hall was saying…” 

He shook his head, brow knitting together. “No, I went down to the Chamber. I had to write a letter to my parents, and I wanted some quiet. Is the whole school really that upset?” 

“Basically. They think you put your name in on purpose. Said you were only saying that stuff about not wanting anything to do with the tournament to throw everyone off. But we know Better, Harry. Fred and George do to, I think. But you know them. They’ll give you a hard time.” 

Rubbing his forehead, getting a bit of a headache, Harry tried to take that all in. “Right. Okay. Just… leave it alone for now. I need to get to Transfiguration, and guys need to get to your own classes. Because I know for a fact that Snape will lose his mind if you show up late even one more time, Ron.” 

Of course, Harry had been right. Ron had to hurry back down the many steps to get to the Potions room, and Hermione would have to navigate the moving staircase to get to Binn’s dull as death History classroom. It left Harry to walking the rest of the way to transfiguration without them, and gave him a chance to see just what Ron and Hermione had been talking about. 

While the halls were mostly empty, there were a few students that were still roaming the halls, and Harry was able to see, quite clearly, when students began to whisper. They turned away from him, whispering to each other and glaring at him. He could only scowl at the ground. If they couldn’t see how how much he didn’t want this, then it was their loss. 

XxXXxX

The next few days were probably the worst of his life. 

He had sent his letter off to his parents, telling them everything he could think of. His father had sent a letter back, which hadn’t started off well. His father had been furious that he hadn’t been informed by the faculty that his underage son was being forced to participate in a death tournament. It continued to be even worse. At the news, his mother had actually fainted, and hit her head on the way down. She was fine, just a bump, but she was taking a leave of absence from her job at the ministry. Supposedly it was so she could recover, but his father seemed to imply that she was trying to find a way to get him out of the tournament. 

The news was hard enough that Marissa and the twins had come to Harry to check if he was okay. They were her grandchildren, sure, but Harry was her son. If she had really gotten hurt because of something he had done…. Well, Harry would have never forgiven himself. 

After reassuring them that, yes, she was going to be fine, that his father and the elves were taking care of her, Harry did his best to keep focussed. He had to come up with a plan, or an idea, or just something to use in the tournament. It was difficult, because no matter where Harry went, there was someone from another house thinking he wanted this. Very few seemed to think he hadn’t been the one to put his name in. Thankfully, Cedric and Krum were among those few. 

“This is so hard,” Harry groaned as he sat at a table in the library with Ron, Hermione, Draco, and Blaise. “I don’t have a clue what the task could be, I keep worrying about my mom, and everywhere I turn, I have to deal with stupid students from other houses thinking I want to be the champion.” With a groan, he dropped his head to the table. “All I wanted was to have a simple year at Hogwarts… Just one year, where all I had to worry about was classes and Quidditch, so I could finish my Chamber project in peace…” 

“Chamber project?” Blaise asked, leaning forward. “What chamber?” 

“I don’t believe that’s what matters,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “We need to come up with a plan. Several, in fact, that Harry can use for any situation.” 

“And a more secret meeting place,” Ron grumbled, looking around at all the students walking around them. “Any of these guys from Beauxbatons or Durmstrang could steal our ideas and take them to Fluer or Krum.” 

“And you could be stealing the ideas for Diggory,” Draco shot back. “The Tournament has to many people on edge as it is, Weasley. Do you want to make it worse by disappearing for hours on end every day?” 

“It would be nice to have some privacy.” Harry couldn’t help but sigh. This whole thing was just taking to much out of him… “But we have to stay focused. I mean, we can’t take too much time trying to find somewhere else to go.” 

Harry thought about the Chamber of Secrets. Ron and Hermione had already been there with him a few times last year, and Draco knows he goes down there practically every day. He’d just have to tell Blaise, and maybe Theo, but it would be fairly simple. 

He didn’t get much time to think that afternoon, since he, Hermione, Draco, and Blaise all had to be down to Potions. They’d be brewing antidotes alone, and the last thing Harry wanted was to mess up something he had helped Derrick with before he’d come to Hogwarts. And he knew that Snape knew that. So, he pushed all other thoughts from his mind and focused only on Potions. 

That is, until a loud knock in the classroom door pulled him out of his concentration. 

Colin Creevey, a Gryffindor third year, edged his way inside. As everyone turned to look at the intruder, the boy looked around, before beaming as his eyes landed on Harry. Harry, in turn, sighed, and prepared to have his antidote put away. He’d have to do it later, he supposed. 

“Yes?” Snape prompted. 

“I’m supposed to take Harrison Alistair upstairs,” Creevey said, the smiled fading a bit. “Mr. Bagman wants him, sir. All the champions have to go, for photos, I think, and-” 

“Very well,” Snape sneered, turning a little less hard eye on Harry. “Leave your things, Alistair. You will return later to finish your work.” 

Harry nodded, shoving his bag further under the desk, and turning toward the door. Creevey seemed to want to argue, but Harry wouldn’t have it. This potion was going to be a part of his main grade, on the progress report that went home during the winter holidays. The last thing he needed was his mother worrying about his grades as well as his life… 

It didn’t take that long to get to the room, and Harry gave a light knock on the door before he entered. It was a fairly small classroom, with all the desks pushed away along the walls. There were a few desks pushed together to form a long table, covered in velvet, with five chairs set nearby. Bagman was in one of the chairs. Talking with a witch Harry thought looked vaguely familiar. 

Cedric and Fleur were standing off to the side, in some sort of conversation as he entered. Krum was standing off to the side again, alone and almost brooding, but seemed to perk up when Harry arrived. Harry went to go over and talk to him, only for Bagman to stop him. 

“There he is!” Bagman called, jumping to his feet. “Champion number four! Come in, Harrison, please! Nothing to be worried about, just a wand weighing. The rest of the judges will be here any moment with Dumbledore and the expert. Then we’ll do a little photo shoot. Give Rita Skeeter some pictures to take back to the  _ Daily Prophet. _ ” Turning, Bagman gestured to the woman. “She’s writing a little piece on the tournament.” 

Harry realized, then, why the woman had looked so familiar. She was one of Emit and Neva’s coworkers. Or, rather, a witch that just happened to work in the same place as them. They only had bad things to say about her, calling her cruel and manipulative, and Harry always ignored any article in the  _ Daily Prophet _ that she had a hand in. Whatever she was doing here, it wasn’t good. Like everything else in this tournament. 

“Maybe not  _ that  _ small, Ludo,” she said, though her eyes were focused on Harry. “Maybe I could have a word with Harrison while we wait? The youngest champion…. Add a little color, hm?” 

If color meant lies, Harry was sure. 

“Of course,” Bagman beamed. “That is, if Harrison has no objection?” 

Harry scowled. “I-” 

“Lovely,” Skeeter beamed, and before Harry could react, her talon like fingers were wrapped around his arm and leading him to a nearby door. He was so surprised by her strangely strong grip that he hadn’t been able to stop her. “Don’t want to be out there with all the noise. Yes, this is nice and cozy.” 

The hairs on the back of his neck rose as she sat him down. Memories of his early childhood returned. It was a bloody broom cupboard. 

She pulled out a roll of parchment, as well as a green quill. Putting the tip to the parchment, it balanced on its own, quivering slightly as Skeeter spoke. 

“So, Harrison,” she said, leaning forward. “What made you decide to enter the Triwizard Tournament?” 

“I didn’t,” he tried not to snap. The quill was moving, writing down far more then he had said. “I don’t know how my name got in that cup, but I didn’t put it there.” 

“Come now, Harrison. There’s no need to be afraid. The readers love a rebel.” 

“I didn’t enter,” he repeated. 

Seeing that she was getting nowhere, she switched her approach. “How do you feel about the tasks ahead? Excited? Nervous?” 

“Nervous, I suppose. Since I never planned to enter this tournament.” 

“Champions have died in the past. Have you thought about that?” 

“It’s supposed to be safer this year.” 

While Harry could tell she was getting frustrated, Skeeter kept her face a natural calm. The quill, meanwhile, was darting across the paper as if it were skating. 

“Do you think that your past might have affected your decision? As the youngest son and the thirteenth heir of the Alistair family, surely you feel you need to prove yourself. Live up to the family name? Do you think you were tempted to enter the Triwizard Tournament because-” 

“I  _ didn’t _ ,” he snapped. 

She ignored him. “Do you remember your birth parents at all?” 

Harry scowled. “No.” 

“How do you think they’d feel about you entering the tournament? Proud? Worried? Angry?” 

Prefering to end this conversation on James and Lily, Harry turned to look for a way out. She was blocking the door, and he didn’t really want to see what she would write if he pushed her to get her to move. His eyes found the parchment, where the quill was still furiously writing even though he hadn’t said anything. 

_ Tears began to fill his shocking green eyes as our conversation turned from the family that took him in, to the parents he can barely remember _ . 

“I do  _ not  _ have tears in my eyes!” Harry snapped. 

Before the wicked woman could say anything else, the door to the cupboard was pulled open. Harry was both surprised and not when he found Dumbledore standing there. Had the headmaster set the twisted reporter on him to draw out ‘Harry Potter’? Get her to make him talk about James and Lily, and make him reveal himself? 

Only, Skeeter had snatched her parchment and quill up, stuffing it back into her bag. She may be smiling, but she didn’t like Dumbledore, either. Normally, the enemy of thy enemy is thy friend… In this case, Harry wasn’t quite so sure… 

He took the chance to slip out of the cupboard, though, and finally make his way over to stand by Victor. The older boy gave Harry a nod, looking like he wanted to say something, but instead kept focused on the task at hand. The Wand Weighing was starting, and while Victor wasn’t first, he seemed interested in what Ollivander had to say about the others wands. Cedric and Fleur went, the Victor, and then finally Harry. 

“Ahh, yes,” Ollivander said, a gleam in his eyes as he took Harry’s wand. “Yes, I remember this wand, Mr. Alistair. How curious, the day this wand chose you…” 

Harry didn’t say anything, knowing that with both Dumbledore and Skeeter present, anything he said could be taken the wrong way. So he stood and waited, as Ollivander looked his wand over. It took far longer then the other champions had, but was still said to be in perfect condition. 

Though Dumbledore had recommended ending it there for the day, Bagman pressed that there had to be photos. After a strange while of trying to bunch the champions and the judges all into one frame, then Skeeter trying to pull Harry into the center, they did solo photos and were allowed to leave for dinner.


	10. First Task Prep

The next few weeks, leading up to the first task, were hell. 

Skeeter had published her little piece on Harry. And it had absolutely nothing he had actually said in it. It was all garbage, fake and improvised. She wrote about how he was sure his ‘real parents’ would be proud of him now, and how ‘being the son of such a large family is hard’. 

And, well… She wasn’t exactly wrong about the big family thing, but she wasn’t right either. He just felt pressured sometimes, to do better, okay? So many of his brothers and sisters were famous in their fields. He was reminded of it almost every day, with how Ron had a Chudley Cannons sweater with Dorian’s old number on it, or how girls coming back from Hogsmeade were always gushing about how good Quinn’s pastries were. He just… wanted to make his family proud. 

But the worst of what Skeeter wrote had to be about what she said about Hermione. Apparently, somehow, Creevey had given Skeeter the idea that Harry and Hermione were together. It made things awkward, because students kept teasing them about it, saying how they should kiss and how Harry wasn’t romantic enough. Then if got more awkward, because Harry kept having to explain that they were just friends, only to be accused of being ashamed of Hermione. 

It didn’t help that the Slytherin’s were constantly joking about it. Blaise kept making kissy faces at him whenever he said he was going to go study with Hermione. Theo kept saying that it was sweet how Harry wanted to spend so much time with her, which would have been annoying enough, if it wasn’t for the fact that it was Theo, who rarely made fun of anyone. 

Draco, by far, had to be the worst offender. He kept making snide remarks about how Harry must be off to see his girlfriend, or making faces at them when they sat together in Potions. Which was ridiculous, by the way! Harry was always Hermione’s Potions partner. It’s just how it was, ever since first year. 

Harry started spending more and more time in the Chamber again. Hermione and Ron would usually come with him, and they had a few stacks of books kept on the table down there for studying. The Slytherin’s got suspicious quickly, though, so they had to tone it down. 

The saturday before the first task, though, was a Hogsmeade weekend. Victor seemed intent on Harry’s promise, weeks earlier, to show his around the village, so the two of them went off to walk around on their own first. The Bulgarian seemed to enjoy the village, letting Harry tell him about the Shrieking Shack and show him Honeydukes. They were supposed to head to the Three Broomsticks and meet up with Harry’s group of friends when they were done. 

“I just want to stop by my brothers shop before we go,” Harry said, as it got close to when they were meant to head to the Broomsticks. “He owns a bakery here. It’s really good.” 

“Bakery?” Victor asked. “With… Baklava?” 

Harry laughed. “Maybe? I’m not sure what that is, but… If it’s popular, Quinn’s probably made some.” 

It turns out, Quinn had made some. He had made a  _ lot.  _ Apparently, when he heard about the tournament, and the visiting Bulgarians and French, he went to work making tons of French and Bulgarian treats. They were selling fast, since even the Hogsmeade locals wanted his foreign limited time pastries, and there were barely any left by the time they got there. 

“You can have the rest,” Quinn had said, when he saw Victor eyeing the very few servings of baklava left. “On the house. A special courtesy, to my little brother’s friend!” 

Victor took the bag gratefully, holding it like it was the most precious thing in the world. Harry thought it was kind of funny, watching Victor sitting in a corner with his boon, eating one pastry after another, glaring at anyone that got to close. He couldn’t help but chuckle, and leaned on the counter as Quinn was bagging pastries for more customers coming through. 

“Does your brother get anything on the house?” 

Quinn hummed, smiling. “Of course. There’s a box already set up in the back for you. Made fresh this afternoon. There’s one for Milla and Hester, to, if you don’t mind taking it to them.” 

“You’re the best, Quinn.” And Harry really meant it. The House Elves made great food. Really, they did. But nothing beats fresh home style baking like Quinn’s. 

As Harry went around the counter, going for the two boxes, Quinn grabbed his elbow to stop him. Normally, Quinn wasn’t the type to do something like this, prefering to use nice words and a polite tone. He never got physical. 

“Freya is in the area,” he said, low so only Harry could hear. “And it’s not for a social visit.” 

This really got Harry’s attention. “You think it’s for the tournament?” 

“And not to watch,” Quinn added. “She’s a leading expert in dragons right now. Whatever your task is, on Thursday… You have to imagine…” 

Harry swallowed. He could imagine. If they had called Freya for help, then… Surely the task had something to do with dragons. It had to. They would probably have to fight it, or get something from it… And both of those options weren’t very good. 

“Thanks, Quinn,” Harry said, quick and low. “I should go. I need to start researching again.” 

With that, Harry took his box of treats and went back out to Victor. The other boy was already halfway done with his bag of goodies, and Harry figured it was time to go. As they made their way to the Three Broomsticks, Harry thought about telling Victor what he had learned about the first task. The dragons would be dangerous, and Victor was his friend… 

When they slid into the booth that Ron and Hermione had gotten for them, Draco and the other Slytherin’s missing, Harry had decided. He waited until Victor was settled across from him, next to Hermione, before he spoke. 

“I just talked to Quinn,” Harry prompted, voice going low as he leaned forward. “Apparently my sister is in the area.” 

“Which one?” Ron joked, clearly not getting the importance. He took a swig of his butterbeer, chuckling at his own joke.

Hermione, on the other hand, leaned forward to. “The dragon expert or the centaur lesion?” 

He blinked. Moria? He supposed that she would have been called in, if the task had something to do with Centaurs. 

“Freya,” he said, trying to stay on task. “The dragon expert.” 

“So?” Ron said, “She’s probably just here to see you in the Tournament. Check in on you for your parents.” Understanding slowly dawned on him, and his eyes darted between Harry and Hermione as he leaned in. “Wait… You don’t think… I mean, the First Task can’t be that dangerous. They said it was going to be a lot safer this year.” 

“What is it?” Victor prompted, leaning in like the rest of them. “What about the First Task?” 

“It probably has something to do with dragons,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “But… Dragons. That’s not just dangerous for you, but the people in the stands. What if it tries to attack someone?” 

“Who cares?” Shaking his head, Harry ran a hand through his hair. “This changes things. None of the plans we made will work on a dragon. It was one of the things we put in the ‘hope not’ pile when we started. The first task is on Monday. We only have the rest of today and tomorrow to come up with a new plan.” 

“But now we know. We can go back to the castle now, and start looking for a solution.” Gathering up her books, Hermione started pushing them out of the booth, rather then ask Victor to move. “Come on. We have to hurry.” 

Harry and Ron followed her out of the booth, though they spared a moment to say goodbye to Victor. He noticed, however, that he looked a bit disappointed. Was it because they were leaving, or… something else? 

XxXXxX

When Hermione had said they were going to study, she had meant it. They went straight from the Three Broomsticks to the library. Thankfully, Milla and Hester were waiting, and took their goodie box from Harry. Since, well, they snuck Harry’s box into the library to eat, since they didn’t get a chance at the Broomsticks. They didn’t get much done, and ended up going to dinner empty handed. 

Harry had to fill the Slytherin’s in on what they had missed, about Freya being in the area for business and the theory that the first task was dragons. None of the others at the table seemed thrilled about it either. But knowing was better then not knowing. 

Sunday morning was a little more productive, but not in a good way. Victor came to them in the library, much to Hermione’s carnage. She was always upset about the fan girls that followed Victor around, and hated when they followed him into the library. But he came with information. Karkaroff had snuck into the woods last night. The first task… Definitely dragons. And since Karkaroff had seen Maxime there, Fleur would likely know as well. 

“Come on,” Hermione said, as Victor seemed to wonder his way into the stacks, instead of leave the library. “We should go down to the Chamber. It will be quiet down there.” 

They gathered up the books and headed towards the nearest Chamber entrance they knew of. Soon, they were down with Sila, flipping through books. Ron was getting nowhere, finding nothing helpful, and Hermione was getting frustrated with how little of the books she had had to do with fighting off dragons. Harry, on the other hand, had to deal with Sila. 

“ _ You have not brought the pretty one, _ ” she hissed at him, clearly disappointed. “ _ I do not like these two. One smells like cooked swine and the other smells like the squid. Too much ink… _ ” 

Harry wanted to ignore, he did. But sometimes she just said hilarious things. Ron smelled like  _ bacon _ . 

“ _ Sila, _ ” he tried. “ _ I’m trying to study for the task. Please, I think you’re making Ron uncomfortable. _ ” 

“ _ The dangerous thing? Tell me, Little Harry. You know what you will face? _ ” 

With a sigh, he flipped another page. “ _ Well, I have to fight a dragon. Maybe. We’re not sure, yet. But we don’t have long and we just… We need to focus, okay? _ ” 

For a moment, Harry thought Sila would listen. 

“ _ If it is a Wyrm, you will be able to speak to it, _ ” she said instead. “ _ You will have some luck with Amphithere and Lindwurms. You will have more trouble with species like Drakes or Wyvern’s. It is unlikely you will be able to say anything to what are considered true dragons. _ ” 

For a moment, Harry just stared at her. And stared. And stared some more. He could… What? 

“Harry?” Hermione called, making him turn to stare at her. “What did she say? You’ve been… staring at her for the last five minutes.” 

“Yeah, mate. It’s getting kind of weird.” 

Harry blinked. “What the fuck is a ‘Wyrm’?” 

Hermione frowned. “A Wyrm?... It’s a subspecies classification for some species of dragons. There aren’t many now, but they were dragons that had no wings or legs. The Mediterranean Fin-Back is a kind of Wyrm that was famously being mistaken as a large-” Her eyes widened, turning to look at Sila. “As a large snake…” 

Harry blinked. “So… what does that mean?” 

“It means…” She took a deep breath. “It means you might be able to talk to the dragon you’re supposed to fight.” 

XxXXxX

After that, Hermione had gotten to work with Ron figuring out the breeds of dragon that he might be able to speak clearly to, or speak to in heavily accented parseltongue. There was also, terrifyingly, a much larger list of dragon breeds he probably wouldn’t be able to speak to at all. 

While his friends were doing that, Harry was seated in front of Sila, the serpent hissing in strange tones that he tried to mimic. Considering the sharp hisses she gave each time, he wasn’t doing very well. How was he supposed to experiment speaking to a dragon if he didn’t have one? Even Hermione couldn’t transfigure something into a dragon, and Harry couldn’t exactly get Freya or Jasper to bring over Ba’ul. 

When they finally left the Chamber, it was well after dinner, and dangerously close to curfew. He thought about sitting in front of one of the snake paintings in the Slytherin Common Room, and just trying again, but… He was tired. Really, really tired. He would probably only have enough energy to check over the list Hermione had made, and go to bed. 

She had circled five what she thought were the most likely dragons to appear. Two of them, the Amphithere Antipodean Opaleye and the Lindwurm Chinese Fireball, were in the very likely collom. But, so was the unlikely Wyvern Hungarian Horntail, and the impossible Welsh Green and Swedish Short Snout. So, if Hermione was right, and at least the Opaleye or Fireball were present, he had a good chance. But, then again, if she was right, there was a greater chance he wouldn’t be able to speak to the dragon at all. 

Sometimes, Harry loved it when Hermione was right. Other times, he hated it. He wasn’t sure which one this would be...


	11. Dragon Eggs

When Harry went with the others down to the task site, they were pulled into a small prep tent off to the side. It would be a while before the judges would arrive, so they were left to their own devices for far to long. Fleur, seated on a stool in a corner, was pale and clammy, a stark contrast to her usual composure. Cedric was pacing, muttering under his breath about dragons. Ron must have told him like Harry had asked. Victor seemed to feel similar to Harry, standing silently and leaning on a wall. He looked like he had a plan, and Harry hoped that he did. 

When the judges finally arrived, or rather, Bagman arrived, they gathered everyone up in a semi-circle around them. 

“It’s finally time to fill you in,” Bagman said, nodding excitedly as he held up a purple silk pouch. “The audience is assembled, and you will select a small model from the thing you are about to face.There are different… varieties, you see. And you have too… Well, your task is to collect the golden egg! It is a clue to the second task, if you get that far.” 

When he didn’t get as big of a reaction as he clearly thought, he cleared his throat and held the bag out to Fleur. “Ladies first.” 

Harry watched as she reached out a shaking hand, and put it in the bag. When her hand came back out, she was holding a tiny and perfect model of the Common Welsh Green. A number hung around its neck, but that wasn’t what Harry focused on. It was the fact that Hermione had been right about at least one dragon. And, thankfully, that was one less dragon that would kill Harry before he could even try to get in a word. 

Next was Cedric. Though he was looking a little green, he put his hand in the bag and grasped his dragon. When he pulled it out, Harry squinted to recognize the breed. It was a Swedish Short-Snout with a number one around its neck. Hermione was two for two, and Harry was starting to like his odds. He had a two in three chance, if Hermione was right, that there was a dragon he could talk to inside that bag. 

Victor went next, and Harry wondered if he should have asked to go first. Still, Victor reached into the bag and pulled out his dragon. It was a scarlet Chinese Firebolt. A dragon that Harry could have done well with. 

When Bagman turned to Harry, all Harry could do was pray that it was an Opaleye. He could deal with an Opaleye. That would be easy. Probably. But then he reached into the bag, his hand came out with a Hungarian Horntail. He had a Wyvern. Of all his luck, he got a Wyvern. Still, there was a slim chance… The smallest chance… At least it wasn’t the Welsh Green or the Short Snout.

“Well,” Bagman said, puffing out his chest just a bit. “There you are! You have each pulled out the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the order you will face them, you see. Now, I have to leave, because I’m commentating. Mr. Diggory, you’re first, so just go out into the enclosure when you hear the whistle. Harry… A quick word?” 

“No,” Harry said, stomach churning to much to move. 

Bagman looked wary, but he nodded and made his way out. Harry waited, taking deep breaths, and trying to picture Sila in his mind as he began to mutter under his breath. Practice his parseltongue.  _ I am not here to fight you. You are guarding something that is not what it seems. I am not here to fight you. The gold egg is not what you think.  _

“Harry,” Victor said, making Harry jump. When he turned to look at the older boy, he found both Fleur and Victor staring at him. Cedric was gone, and there were sounds of roars and cheers outside. 

Harry cleared his throat, feeling a little parched. “Yes?” 

“You were making strange sounds,” Fleur said, voice low. “I would like for you to stop.” 

He ducked his head, trying to hide his blush. Harry hadn’t been meaning to make her uncomfortable. Really, he had just been getting ready for his task. Or… trying to. He didn’t know what dragon sounded like in parseltongue, and there wasn’t really any way to check if it worked or not. Still, he was good at thinking of things on the fly. A spell or two couldn’t be to hard, right?... 

There was a deafening roar from outside, and Harry ducked his head, covering his ears. He needed to stay focused. His own safety had to be his top concern. If Freya was still here, she would undoubtedly give their mother all the gory details. Especially if she had to explain that Harry got eaten because he was to busy hissing at the dragon to save himself. 

The other champions went, one by one, but he barely noticed. He was focusing hard, turned into a corner, to whisper to himself again.  _ I am not here to fight you. I am not here to fight you. The gold egg is not what you think.  _

Finally, after what felt simultaneously like an eternity and only a few minutes, Harry was called forward. He tried to steady his breathing, legs feeling like lead as he walked through the exit, and entered the enclosure. 

All around were hundreds upon hundreds of faces of strangers, though Harry could faintly make out the faces of the judges panel, and maybe a few of his friends. But that wasn’t what he was focused on. His eyes were drawn instead to the Horntail Wyvern, crouched low over what Harry could just make out as a group of eggs, with the golden one at the center. 

Heart pounding, Harry took a step forward, eyes on the dragon. “I’m not-” 

He didn’t get a chance to finish, as a jet of fire was sent his way. Harry barely managed to dive behind a rock. The spray of flames and embers followed, and he felt the rock heating against his back as he clutched his eyes close. He was sure that he hadn’t been speaking parseltongue back there. So, he had to imagine a snake, Sila, as his chest was pounding. 

“ _ I’m not here to hurt you, _ ” Harry tried again and again, slowly getting louder. “ _ I’m not here to hurt you. I don’t want to fight you. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m not here to fight you! _ ” 

For a moment, Harry took heavy breaths, eyes closed. He could still hear the roar of fire in his ears, but it was… fainter? No, it was just the sound of his own thundering heart. The fire had stopped? 

Slowly, Harry peeked out around the rock he was ducked behind. Honestly, he was expecting the Horntail to have turned away from him, gotten bored. Instead, the Wyvern was staring right at him. Had it worked?... 

There was a loud roaring sound, and it wasn’t really words that Harry heard. It was… feelings. Raw and powerful emotions. Confused curiosity filled his ears, though Harry could guess what the dragon was trying to say. Why? Why was he here, if not to fight? 

“ _ The egg, _ ” Harry said, pointing at the Golden Egg. “ _ That one. It’s not yours. Not real. _ ” 

The dragon puffed smoke out of her nose, trying to decide if she should trust him. Then, slowly, she backed away from the clutch. She didn’t give Harry free range, of course, but it was enough space that he would be able to go in and remove the golden egg, or get fried if she changed her mind. After all, the eggs would survive her fire. Harry would not. 

Harry made his way to the nest, careful not to touch any of the real eggs. He gripped the sides of the golden egg, lifting it up and backing away. The Horntail moved forward, curling once more around her clutch, as Harry hurried away with his prize. 

“Look at that!” Bagman shouted, making Harry jump and return his attention to the stands. People watching didn’t seem to know what to do, shouting and pointing at him as Bagman continued. “Look at that! The youngest champion is the quickest to get the egg! And without a single spell! That should shorten the odds on Mr. Alistair!” 

Turning to the judging panel, Harry held up his egg, earning a deafening roar from the audience. The judges were muttering to one another, or to themselves, before turning back to Harry. One by one, the judges stood to present their scores. Maxime and Crouch both gave him an eight, while Dumbledore gave him a nine and Bagman gave an ten. The shocking score, even to Harry, was Karkaroff. The man gave Harry a five. Clearly, the tournament was rigged. 

There was a roar of applause and cheers from the stands, though Harry wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t just the Slytherin’s, but students from other houses and schools. As he looked around, someone grabbed him from behind and pulled him into a tight hug. Harry turned, blinking as he saw Freya. She pulled back, looking him over, as she let out a shaky breath. 

“God,” she gasped. “Harry, you’re tied for first! With Krum!” 

He blinked. “Wait, really?” 

“Yes,” Freya said, shaking her head. “Don’t know what Karkaroff is playing at, but Krum shouldn’t have gotten as many points as he did. He made the dragon crush half the eggs during his match, but Karkaroff gave him a ten. God, Harry, I thought that Horntail was going to eat you.” 

“So did I,” he said. “For a second, at least. But I’m just glad it worked. I really didn’t want to fight a dragon.” 

His sister sighed, pulling him into another hug. “God, you’re so reckless sometimes. I have to go, you know, help move the dragons. But I’ll tell Mom all about what you did. She’s going to be proud of you. Finding a less dangerous way to do the task.” 

With one last hug, Freya let him go and was running off to shout something at one of the dragon wranglers. Harry didn’t stay for long, and instead went to go find his friends. The egg had a knob on the top, one that he was sure would turn. So he could probably open it. 

Before he could get to deep in thought, a wave of Slytherin’s were crowding around him, cheering and some shaking him when they couldn’t hold back their excitement. 

“Talk about a shock,” Parkinson said as she punched Harry’s shoulder. “You’re tougher then you look, Alistair!” 

“You were hissing and growling at it!” A second year was shouting. “And it backed off!”

“I always thought you got through your adventures with dumb luck,” Blaise confessed. “I didn’t think you actually came up with plans. How did you know you could talk to it? That’s what you were doing, right?” 

“Oh, Alistair!” Astoria Greengrass shouted as she threw her arms around him. “I was so scared for you!” 

“Er, right,” Harry said, carefully extracting himself from the younger girls arms. “Thanks. I just… tried my best. I mean, I talked to the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets second year, and with Hermione’s help, we figured that they could be classified as Wyrm’s, which is a kind of serpentine dragon? If I had the time, I would have tried with Ba’ul first, but I had to wing it… Surprised it actually worked.” 

“You’re reckless,” Draco huffed, shaking his head. “But you should get some rest. I’ve noticed you haven’t been sleeping much the last few days.” 

He chuckled. “Right… Been so worked up preparing for the first task…” Lifting the golden egg, he scowled at it. “And now I have this to deal with.” 

XxXXxX

Even though many of the Slytherin’s seemed to want to party and congratulate him, Harry went to bed rather early. After all, Draco had been right. He hadn’t slept much the last few days, and facing off with a dragon had drained him. 

The morning that followed, Harry was still rather exhausted. Two nights with barely any sleep, then facing off against a giant fire breathing lizard? Yeah, he was tired. Still, he got up and went to his classes like normal, even as everyone was trying to congratulate him or asked how he knew he could speak dragon. He could ignore most of them, even the few still angry Gryffindors that made fun of him by making hissing and growling sounds that just made them look stupid. 

He didn’t really get a chance to look at the golden egg until the late afternoon. It had spent most of the day just sitting on his bed, waiting for him to come back for it after class. And even then Harry had gotten distracted with his homework and stretching out his legs. He had had Defense last, and while Moody couldn’t get him to jump anymore, his legs had still tensed for a few seconds before he would throw off the Imperius. It left his legs sore, like he had been running a marathon. 

“Are you going to open it?” Blaise had prompted, more eager then even Harry so see what was in the egg. “It’s a clue for your task in February, so it must be important.” 

“February is months off,” Harry said, even though he agreed with Blaise. “I’ll wait until December. I just need a few days to rest.” 

“You shouldn’t put this off,” Blaise continued. “I mean, your life's on the line here. And think about all the trouble you had coming up with a plan for the first task. Better to get on it soon and know what you’re gonna do ahead of time, then wait and end up forgetting the thing entirely.” 

“He’s right,” Draco added. “You should be planning ahead when you can. The sooner you know what’s in that egg, the sooner you’ll know what to start looking into. Granger will surely want to start pulling books sooner rather then later. Supposedly, she pulled nearly thirty books out in the last two weeks alone to help you.” 

“Makes you wonder where she keeps them all,” Theo mused, turning to look at the stack of books by his bed. Was it just Harry, or had the unread pile gotten bigger then the read pile? 

“We have a place that we’ve been using to study where it’s quiet,” Harry said, shooting Draco a look. “But you’re right. I should be on top of this, so I don’t have to worry about it later.” 

Moving to sit in the center of his bed, Harry pulled the egg into his lap. The other boys gathered around, Crabbe and Goyle pausing in their ever present eating to join them. Reaching up, Harry wrapped his fingers around the knob at the top and gave it a twist, letting it fall open in his lap.

Then, promptly tried to close it as a horrible wailing shriek filled the room. Everyone scrambled to cover their ears, shouting for Harry to close it over the noise. He fumbled with the egg, his ears feeling like they were bleeding as he managed to force it closed and drop it back on the bed. The boys all stared at the pretty golden egg that held such a terrible noise. 

“What the actual fuck was that?” Blaise breathed. 

Harry had no idea… 


	12. The Yule Ball

While Harry was busy trying to figure out the wailing egg, the whole school was thrown into chaos by the announcement of the Yule Ball. Harry didn’t care for dancing, since he wasn’t that good at it, and he needed to stay focused on the task. Because Blaise and Draco had been right. He needed all the time he could get to prepare for the second task, especially the way Hermione was acting. 

With the immediate and looming threat of the first task no longer hanging over Harry like an unstable guillotine, Hermione had turned her attention, once more, on S.P.E.W. Apparently, she had spent hours knitting the Hogwarts elves tiny hats and sweaters. And then taking them down to the kitchen, only to be thrown out. Harry didn’t know why she was so insistent on this, but he had other things to worry about. 

“So I’m not going home this break?” Harry asked, having been pulled aside by McGonagall. “Because I have to go to this stupid ball?” 

“The Yule Ball is not ‘stupid’,” she said, looking rather tired. “It is an experience, a chance for you to present your best self to the other students, and show people that you are more then just the ‘hissing champion of Slytherin’.” 

“People are calling me the ‘hissing champion’?” 

With a sigh, McGonagall looked like she needed to sit down. “You will have to have a date for the ball, like all other champions, as you will also be kick starting the ball with the first dance. Your head of house will also be holding a lesson to make sure you know the steps.” This time, she smiled. “Though, I’ve heard that you’ve danced quite lovely at your families Summer Gala. I’m sure you’ll enjoy the chance to relax, as well.” 

Harry returned her smile, though he wasn’t very confident. Sure, he’d gotten a lot better since the first Gala. But he still had only danced well with maybe two people, Marissa and Draco. He wasn’t sure how well he’d do with a date. 

Getting a date was another thing entirely. He had never asked a girl on a date, and didn’t even know what girl to ask. The ball wasn’t his priority though, since he had wasted two weeks on the egg and gotten nowhere. There was so much that he needed to do, needed to figure out, and adding a ball to the list wasn’t going to help him. 

His first thought was to ask Marissa. It would be an easy fix, at least a chance to fix something before it became a real problem. Still, it would feel rather selfish for him to pull his cousin out of the chance of having her own date. It was a ball after all. She deserved the chance to have fun instead of worrying about him. 

XxXXxX

He went to Marissa two weeks before the Yule Ball. 

Classes were kicking up with exams for the end of winter term, getting ready to send scores home over the break. Harry, still struggling with the wailing egg, was now struggling to keep up with the standards he had already had trouble maintaining. McGonagall wasn’t going easy on him, and Snape was starting to be disappointed with some of his potions. Moody’s classes were more hellish then normal, with Moody showing them more dark curses on enlarged spiders. 

Herbology was probably one of the more laid back classes he had. He was paired with Marissa, like always, but he waited for a day he could catch her during lunch before he asked. 

“Do you have a date to the ball yet?” Harry asked, dropping onto the bench next to her at the Ravenclaw table. Most of the Ravenclaws ignored him, but some of the Beauxbaton students turned to watch for some reason. 

“Not really,” Marissa said, reaching out to grab one of the sandwiches. “I mean, I was thinking of going in a group. Sue Li and the Patil twins don’t have dates yet, so we were all planning to go together. What about you? Heard you have to start the dance.” 

“Not yet. I’ve been busy with that egg from the first task.” He gave a shrug and took a sandwich of his own. “I was actually thinking that you could go with me? At least for the first dance, so I can stay focused on figuring out the second task.” 

“That seems fine,” she said. “But I don’t see why you don’t just ask one of your friends.” 

“Aside from with you and Draco, I can’t really dance. So many people are gonna be watching, and I don’t think I can afford to be tripping up under the spotlight.” 

“You could ask Malfoy.” 

Harry snorted. “No way. Draco and I are just friends, and no offense to him, but his father is an ass. He’d probably see us dancing in the Prophet and try to use it to get Papa to do some kind of twisted alliance.” 

“But you two always dance at the Summer Gala.” 

“As  _ friends _ in a private event.” 

Marissa let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine, Harry. I’ll do the first dance with you. But you have to at least try to have fun at the ball. Dance with Draco, chat with friends. You know, don’t be anti-social and disappear like you’ve started doing?” 

“I will. I promise.” With a smile, finally feeling some sense of accomplishment at a problem being solved, Harry got up from the table and left. Now, if only he could solve that egg…

XxXXxX

“So, Alistair,” Blaise said casually, as they all stood in an empty classroom in the dungeons, waiting for Snape. “Heard you’re kickstarting the ball. Got a date yet?” 

Harry sighed, long and heavy. God, he was so tired. It had been a week since he talked to Marissa, and he only had a week left before the Yule Ball. He’d spent every waiting moment trying to do all the things he needed to. If he wasn’t studying for winter exams, then he was dealing with Hermione and S.P.E.W. And if he wasn’t dealing with Hermione, he was trying to figure out the egg. He’d spent more then a few nights sleeping in the Chamber with Sila, trying to figure it out. 

“I guess,” Harry said, watching Snape swoop in and start talking. He was too tired to listen, even if it was Snape. “I just asked Marissa. She’s going with a group anyway, and I don’t have time to look for a real date.” 

“You look awful, by the way,” Nott threw in, as Harry gave a bit of a yawn. “Haven’t you been sleeping?” 

“Not really…” 

“You haven’t been in the dormitory some nights,” Draco said. “You aren’t there when we go to bed, and you aren’t there when we wake up. And when you are there, you’re behind your curtains and still awake the next morning.” 

“I’m just stressed.” Harry yawned again. “Dealing with winter finals, and then finding a ‘date’, and the whole Tournament… It’s just… a lot. Not to mention the ever present worry for my mother dangling over my head like a guillotine. Who wouldn’t be stressed? I mean-” 

“Alistair,” Snape’s voice cut in. “If you are so keen to talk, then perhaps you would be willing to demonstrate the steps with Miss Greengrass?” 

Harry felt his heart sink. He still wasn’t sure how to dance, usually just following someone else's lead. But he couldn’t tell Snape no, so he stepped forward out of the circle and took Daphne Greengrass’s hand, his other placed on her waist. He did his best to convey his apologies, and tried to remember everything Draco or Marissa had ever told him about dancing. Eyes up, keep a tempo in your head, don’t scrunch your brow or it will make you look constipated. 

With a mental ‘1, 2, 3,’ beat in his head, Harry took the first few steps he could remember. Which didn’t go to horribally. Greengrass seemed to crease her own brow, though, in a bit of confusion. Harry panicked a little, wondering what was wrong, and his steps faltered. His foot went to far forward, the toe kicking into her shin, then right onto her own toes when he jumped at her hiss of pain. 

“Oh god,” Harry said, quickly letting go of her to step back. “I’m so sorry!” 

Greengrass didn’t say anything, her face just scrunched up as she took a few pained steps back. Harry turned to look at his friends, or at Snape, for help. Blaise was snickering like an idiot, and Draco was pinching his nose. Snape looked rather exasperated. 

“If you were not prepared,” he drawled. “Then you should have said so, Alistair.” 

“It’s not his fault,” Blaise cackled. “He just doesn’t know how to lead.” 

“Blaise,” Harry hissed, cheeks burning red. 

“It’s true,” Draco said. “He can dance quite well, in any position, as long as he is not the one to lead.” 

Harry glared at his blond friend. Traitor. 

Still, Snape seemed to think this over before dismissing Harry back into the circle and sending Greengrass off to the infirmary. He had someone else demonstrate the proper steps, before having everyone pair up. Harry, with just a bit of spite, paired with Nott, just to get back at Blaise and Draco for embarrassing him. 

XxXXxX

“I still don’t get why I don’t have a date,” Ron groaned as he sat next to Harry in the Chamber, across from Hermione. “I mean… I tried to ask Susan Bones, but she said she already has a date. And so do all the other girls in our year.” 

“Not everyone,” Harry said, mind still focused on the book he’d checked out about different kinds of eggs. It wasn’t helping in the slightest, but it was less of a reach then some of the other books he’d checked. “Marissa is technically going as my ‘date’, but she’s really going to be there with a group of girls from our year who missed the chance for the date they wanted, or just don’t want one.” 

This didn’t seem to ease Ron’s thoughts, or return his focus to the sign he was painting for Harry’s Chamber Project that Harry didn’t have time for himself. Instead, he turned to Hermione, who was looking into a book on Wizarding Law. 

“Hermione,” he said, and Harry’s stomach lurch as he had a bad feeling. “You’re a girl.” 

Instantly, Harry felt fear roll in his gut. Nothing was as frightening as a woman’s wrath. He had enough strong and powerful women in his life to know this in his very core. His mother had the power of a small army and a not so small fortune under her control, and Neva could bring anyone down with sharp words and a flick of her quill. Moria was on outstanding terms with nearly an entire species that was notorious for hating wizards, Freya had a Hungarian Horntail for an adopted son, and his sister-in-law Maria knew more defensive and offensive spells then Harry would even know what to do with. 

Hermione’s face lifted, eyes narrowed and brow creased. “Well spotted, Ronald.” 

Harry felt a shudder of fear roll up his spine. Hermione knew more spells then he and Ron combined. She was the most talented witch of their age, and she wasn’t going to pull her punches. And even if her anger was aimed at Ron, Harry was right next to him. He was in the splash zone. 

“Well,” Ron said, and Harry started scooting away from him on the bench. “You aren’t going in a group, so why not go with me?” 

Her eyes narrowed, and Harry thought about running. “I can’t. I’m already going with someone.” 

While this news to Harry, he wasn’t entirely surprised. She was, like so many other women in Harry’s life, strong and intelligent. If she had tried to ask someone, they would have likely said yes. And if anyone was courageous enough to ask her, and she said yes, then Harry would be happy for her.

“Yeah right,” Ron said, looking rather disappointed. “You just don’t want to go with me. Come on, Hermione. Harry’s going with Marissa. Why won’t you just come with me?” 

“I already told you,” she snapped, getting up and gathering her books. “I’m already going with someone. Just because it took you three years to notice that I’m a girl doesn’t mean someone else hasn’t!” 

And with that, she turned and stormed her way out of the Chamber. Her thunderous steps resonated against the walls, even after she was gone, and Ron turned to look at Harry. Harry, in turn, looked back at his best friend. 

“You’re an idiot,” Harry said. 

Ron balked at him. “What? What did I say?” 

Harry just shook his head. He was just glad that no one had been cursed… 

XxXXxX

When the day of the Yule Ball rolled up, also happening to be Christmas, Harry was back in his bed for once. Sleeping in the Chamber was starting to get too cold, with the fresh layers of snow constantly falling, and extra cold breezes rolling through the expansive tunnels. He had to close most of the entrances, just so Sila wouldn’t get to cold. She was getting ready for a bit of hibernating anyway. 

As he woke up that morning, with the dorm still packed, Harry yawned and rubbed his eyes as he looked over his dormmates. 

“Merry Christmas,” Harry yawned, scratching at his stomach. He was rather hungry… Had he eaten dinner the night before? 

“Merry Christmas,” Blaise called back, as Harry got back. He, like everyone else, was already pulling apart the wrapping on his pile of presents. In his hands was a rather expensive looking Quaffle. “You gonna open your presents?” 

Harry just shrugged. He had a feeling he knew what was inside most of them. A green sweater and fudge from Mrs. Weasley, another early CD from Russell, a broom cleaning kit from Dorian, and an advanced Defense book written by Maria. Not to mention the box of sweets from Quinn, a book about wizarding etiquette from Hermione that he’d eventually read, and a hollow snitch used for keeping secrets from Marissa. There was also a letter from his father, with a set of the charmed silhouette targets, to encourage him to train every way he could in his spare time. Harry supposed that he should start practicing again, in case he could use the slingshot he had in the Tournament… 

“Targets?” Draco asked, frowning at the letter over Harry’s shoulder. “What do you need targets for?” 

“Slingshot,” Harry mused, setting aside the letter. “I haven’t been practicing like I should. Especially since I might be able to use it in the tournament.” 

“Training,” Blaise scoffed. “Really, is that all you think about? Do you even remember what’s tonight? The Yule Ball?” 

Harry sighed. “Yeah… The Yule Ball.” 

XxXXxX

Hours later, Harry was standing in his formal wear with the other Champions, waiting for their ‘dates’ outside of the Great Hall. He was frowning, tugging at his cuffs in a nervous twitch. 

“Vould you calm down?” Viktor said next to Harry. “You are figiting.” 

“Sorry,” Harry chuckled. “It’s just… I’m nervous.” 

“I can tell. Take time to relax. The Tournament does not matter right now.” 

“This is all part of the tournament,” Harry said, but let it drop. “Hey, I don’t think you ever told me who your date was.” 

Instantly, Viktor’s cheeks dusted with red, even as he stood straighter. “Actually, it is-” 

“Hermione!” Marissa’s voice gasped from the stairwell. “Oh my gosh, you look amazing!” 

Harry turned to spot his cousin and his friend coming down the steps. Marissa was in a dress similar to what she usually wore in the summer, a deep blue floor length that fanned out around her legs when she danced. Hermione, however… Harry almost didn’t recognize her. Her bushy hair had been tamed into soft curls that she had pulled back into a braided bun, and a pale blue dress was cascaded down her form. It was so different from how she normally dressed, even when she had been at the Summer Gala, that Harry did a double take. 

“Hermione,” he gasped, as she and Marissa came down the stairs to stand before him and Viktor. “Wow, you look great!” 

“She does,” Vikotr said, then cleared his throat. “I mean… You do. Yes. Amazing.” 

“Thank you Viktor,” Hermione said, stepping closer to loop her arm around into the crook of his elbow, making Harry stare. 

“Wait… Wait, when did this happen? Hermione? Viktor?” 

His friend only smiled, and he didn’t get the chance to press for answers. McGonagal was sweeping them all into the Great Hall, the room seemingly have grown since lunch that afternoon. Students from all three schools were lining the walls, chatting idly until they heard the door open. Everyone turned to watch as the Champions and their dates walked in and to a large cleared area of the room. 

All four pairs were quickly in position, and Marissa gave him a reassuring grin before his stomach could flip with anxiety. And with that, the music swelled and the four Champions were sweeping around the room. It wasn’t nearly as bad as Harry had thought it would be, and it ended much sooner then Harry had thought. 

With a bow at the end of the song, the floor was opened to all the other students, and Harry turned to make his way back out the main doors. 

“Not so fast, Harry,” Blaise said with a grin, managing to get Crabbe and Goyle to snatch him by the arms. “Pretty sure you need this more then anyone else. Come on, just stay a little longer! Share a couple of extra dances! I’m sure Draco would love to be twirled around.” 

Harry wanted to argue, but Blaise was rather insistent. Before he knew it, he was spinning around the floor with his friend. Laughter escaped him when Blaise spun him around, and he was suddenly switched with Parkinson, who had been dancing with Draco. He blinked for a moment, looking just as surprised as the blond, before they were laughing again and spinning once more, this time together. 

And, for one night, Harry forgot the troubles he had been facing.


	13. Cracking the Egg

The next morning, Harry was feeling more relaxed and refreshed then he had in months. He, like most, had spent the entire ball talking and dancing and eating. In fact, most of his dormmates were still asleep, even though it was well past ten. 

Getting up, yawning as he shuffled his way to the bathroom, Harry went through the majority of his morning routine, though he didn’t bother showering or getting dressed. Try and fail to brush hair, brush-teeth, cover-up, and glamour. With another yawn, Harry heads up for breakfast. 

Even though it was late morning, getting closer to noon, the great hall was slowly filling with drowsy students. Harry joined a group of Slytherin’s on one side of the room, and started piling his plate full of eggs and bacon. He had eaten a lot the night before, but he was still very, very hungry. 

It wasn’t long before he spotted Hermione coming in, and he picked up his plate to go join her at the Gryffindor table. 

“So,” Harry said, smiling a bit. “You never did tell me about Viktor?” 

She smiled back at him, but the glee didn’t seem to reach her eyes. “Oh… Yes, Viktor…” 

Instantly, Harry was worried. “Did he do something last night? I didn’t think he was that kind of guy, but if he did-” 

“Viktor didn’t do anything wrong,” Hermione said. “He was lovely, actually. A complete gentleman. Ronald, on the other hand…” She gives a heavy sigh. “We had an argument last night. He accused me of helping Viktor with that egg, even though I haven’t. We haven’t even talked about the tournament, other then when he asked me to the Ball.” 

Honestly, he wasn’t sure why he was surprised. Ron had a habit of… saying things he shouldn’t. Sometimes. This year just seemed to be full of those times, with how he and Hermione had been clashing. 

“Well, as long as you’re okay,” Harry said, finishing the last of his eggs. “You never did tell me how that, you know, happened?” 

“He saw me and thought I was beautiful.” A blush started to dust her cheeks. “And I didn’t notice before, but when he was helping you, he was trying to get me to talk with him, but I was to focused on helping you with the first task. So, when he found out he had to have a date to the Ball, he took the chance to ask me. And I thought… Well, why not?” She smiled, looking down at her hands in a rather out of character act of embarrassment. “He’s nice, though. I’m surprised I didn’t notice before…” 

“As long as you’re happy, I think that’s all that matters.” Getting up from the table, Harry gestures over his shoulder. “I should probably go get dressed before Snape sees me walking around in my pajamas.” 

She nods and waves him off, so he heads off back towards the dungeons. Now that he had eaten, he was feeling up for a bit of exercise. Maybe he could keep his promise to Viktor, and get them out over the pitch? Or he could really relax, just for a day, and spend the day lazing around in bed? 

Harry didn’t get the chance to decide, though, as when he was passing the Hufflepuff Common Room, Cedric comes out of the hole. Normally, it wouldn’t have been a probably. They would have just walked right past each other. But Cedric stopped him. 

“Harry,” he said, a bit of a smile on his lips. “I was just about to come looking for you.” 

Pausing, Harry turned to look up at the older boy. The two of them usually didn’t talk, so for Cedric to come looking for him was rather odd. Harry still nodded, turning to face Cedric instead of facing down the hall. 

“What is it?” 

“You had Ron tell me about the first task,” Cedric said. “I don’t think I ever thanked you for that, even if it was on short notice.” 

“It’s nothing.” Harry smiled. “I would have told you sooner, but we didn’t know for sure until that night when Ron told you. I’m just glad you were able to come up with a plan.” 

Cedric nodded, peering down at Harry. “Made any progress on the egg?” 

This made Harry a little suspicious. His shoulders tightened, and his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Was Cedric trying to get Harry’s help again? Could this entire conversation just be a way for the older boy to take the easy way out? 

“No,” Harry said. “I haven’t. Why?” 

Again, Cedric nodded, having clearly expected this. “You know what I did to help me figure it out? I took a bath. A long one, in a big tub. So I could really think it over.” He leaned forward. “Take the egg.” 

Before Harry could ask what on Earth Cedric was talking about, the older boy was walking off like their conversation never happened. Harry scowled, wondering what Cedric was trying to do. It sounded like the Hufflepuff was telling him to put the egg under the water. Which, now that Harry was actually thinking about it, was probably the only thing Harry hadn’t done. 

Continuing down the corridor, Harry mulled this over. If the screeching turned to words when under water… He was sure he could find what kind of creature it was fairly easily. Hell, it might even be one that Harry had accidentally glossed over his first time checking the book of languages.

Heading straight for his dorm, Harry ignored his dormmates in favor of frowning down at the egg. Where was he supposed to take this egg? Their dorm bathrooms didn’t have tubs, and the sinks in all the bathrooms were far too small to fit the egg, much less his head. Though… He remembered, the last time he had been in the kitchens, that their sinks were much larger… 

Snatching up the egg, Harry hurried back out of the dorm, and back towards the Hufflepuff common room. Instead of being stopped by Cedric, he went to the fruit bowl portrait and tickled the pear to get inside. Almost instantly, the elves were on him. They offered him food and drinks, and one even asked if he needed to cook the egg. 

“I need something large enough to set this in,” Harry told them. “Along with my head.” 

Instantly, the elves were off, bringing different sized pots until one elf was shouting that he had cleared the sink. Harry thanked them, and hurried over to the large basin sinks. It was easy to find the stopper, and he plugged the hole before turning on the tap. He placed the egg in, waiting until the water was high enough before turning off the water and carefully opening the egg. 

He had been expecting shrieks, for the wailing to make the water bubble like it was boiling. Instead, nothing happened. Harry closed the egg using his hands, and then took a deep breath. Shoving his head under the water, he let the egg drop open again to hear a magnificent voice sing. 

“ _ Come seek us where our voices sound, _ _   
_ _ We cannot sing above the ground.  _ _   
_ _ And while you’re searching ponder this: _ _   
_ _ We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss. _ _   
_ _ An hour long you’ll have to look, _ _   
_ _ And to recover what we took. _ _   
_ _ But past an hour — the prospect’s black, _ _   
_ __ Too late, it’s gone, it won’t come back. ”

Harry pulled his head up from the water with a sharp gasp, coughing as he took deep and heavy breaths of air. The elves were panicking, bringing towels to try and pat him dry. He waved them off, instead focusing on the lyrics of the song. He ended up shoving his head back under to listen at least three more times, before the elves began to insist that he should stop. 

But Harry was beaming now, his hair dripping wet as he snapped the egg shut and went running from the kitchens. He was finally making progress. 

XxXXxX

When Harry made it back up to Hermione, who had yet to leave the Great Hall, Harry was repeating the lyrics nonstop in his head. Voices sound, not above ground… Sorely miss, hour to look… He hurried over to where Hermione was sitting, grinning wide. 

“Hermione!” he said as she looked up from the paper in her hands. “Hermione, the egg-!” 

“Harry,” she said, her own voice quite somber, and making him pause. “Skeeter’s been writing about you again…” 

Harry stopped, blinking as he turned to look at the paper in her hands. Still sopping wet, he dropped into place next to her to take the paper. 

** _Youngest Alistair Enjoys Balls And Boys _ **

_ Over the last two months, I have been working diligently to keep all readers of the  _ Daily Prophet  _ up to date on the happenings of the Triwizard Tournament. While there hasn’t been much to write about in the last three weeks since the Champions first task, there is one common topic that everyone is dying to hear more on: Harrison James Alistair. _

_ The youngest of the Champions, and the youngest son of the Alistair Horde, Harrison has been in the spotlight since the beginning. Not only was he somehow able to get through the great Albus Dumbledore’s age line, but not much was known about him in the first place. Who cared about Seeker Krum, or the beautiful Decluer, when they could learn more about the most mysterious of the famous Alistair family.  _

_ Already, I have made great strides in uncovering the story of this young man. The great need for attention brought on by his desire to stand out in a family of wizarding legends, and a portion of his dark past, yearning for his deceased birth parents approval. But today, I have come to reveal another shocking truth about the youngest Alistair.  _

_ As part of the Tournament, Hogwarts school hosted a Yule Ball, to which the Champions were to lead the first dance with their dates. Of the Champions, Harrison was the only one to not show up with a romantic partner, instead bringing his niece, Marissa Blake. While it is clear that the two are fairly close, after the first dance, Harrison was immediately pulled into a dance with someone else. Another boy from Slytherin House.  _

_ For the rest of the night, Harrison was not seen once with a girl, and instead spent the majority of the evening in the arms of the heir of the Malfoy family, Draco Malfoy. While no photos were available, it was clear to myself that Harrison has finally chosen a way to stand out. He appears to be the first homosextual of the Alistair Horde.  _

_ In the upcoming months, I hope that I can continue to unravel the story of this mysterious young man. And, maybe, I will uncover something about a certain Malfoy as well.  _

Harry stared down at the page, mouth hanging open. He wasn’t sure what was worse. Was it that Skeeter was writing lies about him again, or that Skeeter was pulling  _ Draco  _ into the lies? He wasn’t even sure how Draco would react to all of this, much less how their parents would react. Mrs. Malfoy seemed nice, and his own parents would love him no matter what, but Mr. Malfoy was… different. 

“I can’t believe she wrote that,” Hermione huffed. “It’s… It’s slander! She’s calling you… you  _ gay _ on a public paper!” 

She seemed far more upset than Harry was, and he wasn’t sure why. Well, he supposed she was upset about the gay thing, but Harry wasn’t all that worried. After all, Skeeter could be right. He wasn’t really sure about his sextuality, since he’d been so focused on trying to, well, stay alive. Still, he guessed he’d have to actually think about it now… 

“It’s fine,” Harry said. “It’s not like Skeeter’s opinion matters to me. Do you wanna hear what I figured out about the egg?” 

While she didn’t seem angry, Hermione did look a bit surprised at the change of topic. “You figured out the egg?” 

“Sort of. Cedric told me what to do. If you open the egg underwater, it sings instead of screams. I worked it out in the sink in the kitchens.” 

“You didn’t bother the elves did you?” she asked. “You know how I feel about that. They deserve proper wages, and they don’t need you showing up and demanding to-” 

“Don’t worry,” Harry sighed. “I used an empty sink.” 

With Hermione pacified, for now, Harry was free to repeat the song that the egg had sung. They could already make a few guesses as to what was going to happen. Something in the lake was going to take something important to Harry, and he would have an hour, and only an hour, to get it back. Already, a few problems were starting to surface. Like how he was meant to breath underwater for an hour, or what sort of creatures he would likely run into. 

They ended up filling Ron in when he came up for breakfast, about the egg and the paper. Well, Hermione told Ron about the paper. He seemed just about as passive to it as Harry had, and more grossed about the idea of Harry and Draco, rather then angry about Skeeter ‘slandering’ Harry. Maybe it’s a muggle-born thing? And, oh boy, does that thought make him pause. He was technically muggle-born, but other then bad memories, he didn’t really remember a lot of the cultural differences… 

After giving Hermione the all clear to tell Viktor about the egg in the water trick, and after agreeing to look over the list Hermione had already made, Harry and Ron were off to the dungeons once more. They parted at the Hufflepuff door, and Harry finished the rest of the way to the Slytherin Common Room. A lot of Slytherin’s were milling about, reclining on sofas or reading books. A few had the Prophet in their hands, and either snickered or smirked at him when he walked by. 

Blaise, on the other hand, was grinning from ear to ear, as he read a section of Skeeter’s article aloud in their dorm. Draco was glaring at him, cheeks red. 

“Blaise,” he hissed. “Stop!” 

“It’s just a bit of fun, Draco!” Blaise said. “Relax!” 

“Harry isn’t even gay,” Draco continued, waving a hand. “You shouldn’t go spreading false rumors.” 

Harry, having walked in on this, frowned. “Well, I don’t know about that,” he said, gaining the other boys attention. “I mean, I don’t really know? I never thought much about my sextuality. I could be.” 

With a shrug, Harry finally went to shower after a long day, leaving Blaise and Draco staring after him. 


	14. The Second Task

The next two months leading up to the second task went much faster then the last few had. Without having to worry about figuring out the egg, Harry could return his focus on school work, while researching spells that were good for fighting underwater. He had Hermione on the breathing problem, and while she was spending more and more time with Viktor, Ron seemed to be the only one concerned about her dedication to helping. Harry knew that she’d be there when he needed her. 

Sure enough, just three days before the second task, Hermione brought a book over to where Harry was seated with Ron, Blaise, and Draco in the library. Without a word, she opened to book to a page and set it down where everyone could see. Harry frowned, leaning forward. 

“Gillyweed?” he asked, frowning. 

“What’s it do?” Ron asked, frowning a bit. “I never heard of it.” 

“That’s because only NEWT classes even read about them,” she said. “I had to borrow this herbology book from Nevile. But if Snape has any of this in his store room, you could certainly use it for the second task. Half a cup of it will give you webbed toes and fingers as well as gills for exactly one hour.” 

“Snape can’t help him, though,” Blaise said, leaning back in his chair and away from his potions homework. “Even if Snape likes him. He’d have to steal it, and no one can get into his storeroom without permission.” 

“It’s open during class, though,” Ron said. “I mean, we have to get supplies from there to brew, right?” 

Everyone turned to look at Ron. The redhead blinked, looking around at everyone. Harry knew that Ron could be smart, he beat McGonagall’s chess board first year, after all, but Ron was rarely the one to come up with an ‘ah-ha!’ idea. He had a point, though. The door was open during classes when they brewed… 

“Are you suggesting we steal from Professor Snape?” Draco asked, eyes wide in horror. 

Harry grinned. “Of course!” 

XxXXxX

While Draco had been acting strange since Skeeter’s paper came out, he still helped Harry steal the Gillyweed from Snape’s store room. Actually, it was a little to easy. Draco simply distracted Snape by bringing attention to something Neville was doing wrong so he’d leave the storeroom doorway when Harry went back to ‘get more Doxy eggs’. 

Harry had the sneaking suspicion that Snape knew what they were doing. 

After class, Harry grinned at Draco and bumped him in the shoulder, while Hermione scolded them for being so mean to Nevile. Harry hadn’t meant to be mean. Really. But he had needed the Gillyweed. 

At the end of the day, after all their classes, Harry was trying his best to get Draco to engage with him. But Draco didn’t seem to want to talk to just Harry, like he had for the last several weeks. The blond would hand around, when others like Blaise or Theo were there, or even Ron or Hermione, but never when it would be just them. So, with what had become the norm, Draco hurried off as soon as Harry asked him if he wanted to play wizard's chess after dinner. 

“I don’t know what’s up with him,” Harry sighed, looking down at the board as Ron’s queen took out Harry’s other knight. “He’s just… He never talks to me anymore. I don’t know what to do…” 

“You think it might be the Skeeter thing?” Ron asked, as Harry had his last bishop take Ron’s rook. “Oh, nice move, Harry. But I mean it. Lucius Malfoy is kind of a jerk, so you never know. He could have sent Malfoy a letter or something that you don’t know about. Checkmate.” 

Harry glowered down at the board as his king took off his crown and threw it in frustration. “I guess you’re right… I just wish he’d talk to me, you know?” 

Ron shrugged, but turned to look at the clock on the wall. Harry followed his gaze and sighed. It was getting rather late, and the second task was in the morning. He said goodbye to Ron and headed for bed. He could figure out his Draco problem in the morning. 

XxXXxX

Harry was pacing the dock as everyone was gathering around. He was frazzled, breathing hard as he looked around. He’d woken up late, with Draco already gone and no one seeming to know where he’d gone. And then, when they were all called down to the dock on the lake just before noon, he found out Hermione was missing to. 

“They’ll show up,” Ron was saying, though he didn’t look to sure. “I mean, Malfoy is a git, but he wouldn’t miss this. And Hermione is probably just stuck in the library!” 

Harry didn’t say anything. He didn’t have the time, or the patience, and Bagman was already calling the beginning of the task. Pulling out the Gillyweed, Harry waited for the perfect moment, right as Bagman called for them to begin. He shoved the gillyweed into his mouth, swallowed, and jumped for the water just a second after the other three. 

When he hit the water, he struggled for a second as his throat tightened, and a flare of panic shot through him. Had the gillyweed not worked? But his panic was short lived. His throat eased, and suddenly he was breathing with his mouth closed. Lifting his hands, Harry found a webbed membrane between each of his fingers. 

Not wanting to waste time, Harry was off quickly, looking for whatever it was that he was that had been taken. He needed to keep his head clear, not think about Draco or Hermione, not about the other Champions, and just stay focused on the task. He had an hour, just one hour, and he needed to make the best of it. 

He didn’t run into the giant squid, and there was only a little problem with a grindylow. Harry swam away alright, so he kept searching. 

After what felt like at least twenty minutes, Harry started to hear the song once more. The haunting tune was sung somewhere to his right, and he turned to face the direction of the noise. Only… This time, the song was different. 

“ _ An hour long you’ll have to look, _ _   
_ _ And to recover what we took. _ _   
_ _ Your time’s half gone, so tarry not, _ _   
_ __ Lest what you seek stays here to rot. ” 

A shudder ran down Harry’s spine. A half hour had already past. Whatever was down here, Harry would have to hurry. His Firebolt? His Invisibility cloak? What had they taken? 

As he swam, stone dwellings began to appear at the bottom of the lake. Merpeople, gray skinned and green haired, leered at him from around corners. He had seen them before, on the rare occasion that they swam by the glass that looked out into the lake from the Slytherin Common Room. They had never tried to speak, though, so he wasn’t very familiar with them. 

He continued on, the cluster of stone buildings became larger, with more merpeople appearing below. Gardens of weeds were cropping up outside the buildings, making them look more inviting, Harry supposed. They looked lived in, normal and happy. One house even had a grindylow tired to a spike outside the door like a guard dog. 

Rounding a corner, Harry nearly froze at the sight. 

A crowd of merpeople were floating in front of their stone houses, facing what seemed to be their version of a village square. A large statue was set in the middle, a merperson of course, with a choir settled at the base to call the Champions with their song. What was so shocking, though, was the four figures floating in the water, tied to the tail of the statue. They hadn’t taken things. 

Harry darted forward, eyes wide as he swam first to Draco, tied in place next to Cho Chang. His hands went up, checking Draco for any injury, before looking past Cho and a blond little girl to where Hermione was. The tournament had taken people, but why these people? Why take Draco as the thing that Harry would ‘sorely miss’? Was it because of Skeeter’s paper? 

Shaking his head, Harry started to look around for something to use to cut Draco lose. He would help Hermione, but he knew that she was meant for Viktor, and the Bulgarian would surely come for her. No one, other then Harry, was coming for Draco. 

He was annoyed to find that there were no sharp rocks nearby, and he regretted not thinking to bring the knife Sirius had given him during the summer. Going down to Draco’s feet, Harry fumbled and tried untying the knot. It was no use, as the weed that had been used was quite thick and to slimy to hold onto. He made a noise of frustration, though only a bubble actually left his mouth. 

Getting irritated, Harry pulled his wand, and pointed it the rope, further down from Draco’s feet. He tried a few different spells, though they didn’t seem to do anything. Finally, his irritation got the better of him. He pointed his wand, practically hissing. 

“ _ Bombarda _ !” 

No actual sound escaped him, but a bubble shot out of his wand anyway. The bubble exploded when it hit the weed rope, forcing Harry and Draco up as a shock wave rippled through the water. It hurt his chest, but he took a few deep breaths, pausing to check on the other hostages. They seemed fine, only a little moved, but it was the merpeople that were upset. They weren’t laughing anymore. 

Turning, Harry wrapped one arm around Draco and started to pull him up to the surface. It was harder to swim with another person's weight dragging him down, but he put everything he had into it and made his way up. After what felt like an eternity, they breached the surface of the lake. Draco instantly took in a deep breath of air when his head was above water, coughing and sputtering as his arms flailed for a second. 

“Are you alright?” Harry asked, his voice a strange rasp with the gills on his neck underwater. 

“Fine,” Draco said, coughing some more as he recaught his balance. “I’m fine.” 

With a nod, Harry turned toward the dock, where people were beginning to cheer. He smiled, looking along the dock for a good place to bring Draco over, only for his eyes to land on someone else. Fleur was on the dock, sobbing with a towel around her. But… Harry didn’t see the little girl. Fleur’s hostage was still down there. 

“Can you make it to the dock on your own?” Harry asked, eyeing Draco. He’d been rather reckless with that exploding charm. He could have hurt Draco. But he seemed alright.. 

“I think so,” Draco said. His brow furrowed. “Why?” 

He pointed over his shoulder at Fleur on the dock. “Her hostage is still down there. Viktor and Cedric aren’t back yet, so I’m the only one who knows no one’s coming for that little girl. I’ve gotta go back for her.” 

“What?!” Draco squawked. “Harrison, you-  _ Harrison _ !” 

Before Draco could finish, Harry was diving down once more. He swam hard and fast, doing what he could to make it down. Half way down, first Cedric with Cho, then Viktor with Hermione swam past. Harry didn’t pay attention, though, and kept going down until he was at the statue where the little girl was. 

The merpeople were instantly coming at him, spears ready, only for Harry to zip past them all, pointing his wand at the base of the weed rope, where it was tied to the statue. Once again, Harry pulled his wand and opened his mouth to cast. 

“ _ Bombarda _ !” 

The little bubble shot from his wand like a bullet, and the merpeople, clearly remembering what he did last time, scattered. The shock wave rocked out once more, hitting Harry in the chest again. His ribs ached in pain, and he turned to hurry up to grab the little girl that was now starting to float to the surface. 

It was harder to kick now, and Harry realized that he was running out of time. Hermione had said a half cup of Gillyweed was good for an hour. Had he gotten the measurement wrong? 

The ache in his chest continued, growing as he tried his best to pull the little girl to the surface. His gills were disappearing, and swimming got harder without his webbed toes and fingers. But he could see the light of the sun glinting on the surface of the lake not to far above him. He pushed himself, reaching for the light with one hand, the other wrapped around the girls waist, as black spots clouded his vision. 

With gasp for air, Harry popped out of the water, heaving the little girl up to get her to breath. He bobbed back under for a second, as the girl gasped and flailed, but he came back up quickly. The girl sobbed, trying to push Harry away and nearly going under again. 

“It’s okay!” Harry said, doing his best to keep her above water. “You’re okay! I’m gonna get you to Fleur!” 

“Fleur!” the girl cried, but she seemed to settle down, if only a little. 

Letting out a sigh of relief, Harry turned to start swimming back to the dock, the girl clinging to his back. He could see Fleur up ahead, as well as the other Champions and hostages. The crowd, as soon as he was heading for them, was cheering again, louder then before. Harry beamed, swimming right for Fluer. 

As soon as they were close enough, Fleur reached out and pulled her sister onto the dock, still sobbing. When Harry had pulled himself up and out of the water, the french witch was throwing her arms around him, squeezing him tight. 

“You saved her!” Fluer wailed. “Gabrielle! You saved my sister!” 

Once Fluer had released him, turning to usher her sister back to shore, Harry was shivering. Instantly, a towel was shoved into his face, an all to familiar voice following. 

“I can’t  _ believe _ you, Harrison!” Draco huffed. “Did you think they were just going to let us die? How idiotic can you be?!” 

“I mean, Dumbledore kept the school open when a murderer was going around attacking people,” Harry countered as he started to rub his body dry, followed by his hair. “And this tournament has had a death toll in the past…” 

“Sirius Black didn’t actually hurt anyone.” 

“But he did get close once. And I was talking about our second year, when all those people were getting petrified.” 

Draco huffed, face red. “Yes, well-” 

Before the blond could finish, he cut himself off. Harry blinked, pulling the towel off his now messy hair and around his shoulder. Draco was staring at him with wide eyes, confusing Harry all the more. 

“What?” 

Draco continued to stare. “You’re… You’re Harry Potter!” 

Harry’s eyes widened with surprise, and his hand flew up to the scar he had been keeping well hidden for years. The cover up and glamour had come off while he was in the lake. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, honestly... I partially made Draco the one taken just so this could happen, lmao


	15. Relationship Problems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much really happens in this chapter so... do with it what you will.

Harry had acted as quickly as he could to stop Draco, but it was too late. All around, people were turning to look at him, pointing and gasping as his scar was in clear view for everyone to see. Students and spectators were crowding around him like he was some attraction at the zoo, some even reaching out to touch him. 

It was only when Snape and Moody came that the crowd backed away. Harry couldn’t hear what his professors said, but he was soon being hauled away by Snape and back towards the castle. 

“How could you possibly forget to apply the glamour before the task?” Snape hissed. “Do you have so little foresight?” 

“I,” Harry stutters out, eyes wide and heart pounding. He didn’t know what to say. What could he say? He’d messed up, and the entire fiasco was going to be all over the Prophet in the morning, if not sooner. He’d have to send a letter home again, tell his parents… 

Hanging his head, Harry followed Snape back into the castle. He answered question after question. Who already knew besides his family? What was he planning to do? What was he going to say to his dormmates? Did he need Snape to send a letter home instead? 

Honestly, Harry didn’t know what he was going to do. He didn’t know what to tell his parents, and he didn’t know what to tell his friends that hadn’t known. Draco had looked horrified, and he almost didn’t want to go back to his dorm. 

Still, when Snape was done with him, Harry made his way down to the dungeons. Students from other houses were milling about in the halls, pausing in their whisper’s to turn and stare when he came into view. Clearly, they had all come to gauck at him. When he passed, they would turn back to each other, starting with more intense whispers. 

The Slytherin Common Room wasn't much better. All conversation in the common area stopped as soon as he stepped through the entrance, older and younger students all turning to stare. Harry quickly ducked his head, turning and heading for his dorm. If he was lucky, his friends wouldn't treat him differently. 

"He lied to us,” Harry heard Theo say through the door, his voice soft and filled with more betrayal then hate. 

“That doesn’t mean he’s not still our friend,” Blaise said, his own voice a sharp contrast of rage to Theo’s softness. “Sure, he didn’t tell us who he was, but there’s got to be a reason. Harry doesn’t do things without reason! He acts because it’ll help someone, or protect someone. Who cares if he fudged a few truths?” 

“But he never lied,” Draco countered. “I mean, think about everything he’s ever told us. His birth parents are dead, he was raised by muggles for a while. And he did say he changed his name after the Alistair’s took him in.” 

“I always forget that he was adopted,” Theo said, sitting down on his bed, only to jerk when he saw Harry in the doorway. “Oh, uh…” 

Everyone turned, and Harry stepped fully into the room. There was no point in lurking if they knew he was there. He put his hands in his pockets to keep from figiting, and let his eyes roll over his dormmates. 

“Hey,” Harry said, trying to keep his nerves under control. While their words stung, Blaise and Theo were right. He had kept a secret, a big one, from them for a long time. And now that it was out, it wouldn’t be long before more secrets were revealed. “Sorry…” 

“Don’t apologize,” Draco huffed, crossing his arms as he sat on his own bed. “Theodore and Blaise are being unreasonable. It was safer for us to not know.” 

“Maybe.” He tilted back and forth on his heels, feeling tired already. It would be better to tell them now. To tell them what he knew, and what all he hadn’t told them. “Little good that did, though. Considering I’ve fought Voldemort twice since first year. Three times, if you count Pettigrew.” Once his friends recovered from their filching, they all seemed confused, and Harry couldn’t blame them. “There’s a few other things I haven’t told you guys.” 

Blaise eyed him. “How much of that could get us killed?” 

“Blaise,” Draco hissed. “Don’t be ridiculous!” 

“No, it’s a fair question,” Harry said. “My secrets are dangerous. Most of it, I would actually prefer to  _ not  _ tell you. If things really are…” 

He trailed off, thinking about what  _ could  _ happen. If the Tournament really was Voldemort, or one of his followers, then Pettigrew really had found his old master. And if Harry remembered correctly, most, if not all of the Slytherin’s in his year had a relative who had once been called a Death Eater. For Draco and Theo, and even Crabbe and Goyle, it was a dangerous position. Their fathers had all narrowly avoided conviction. If Voldemort returned, and they rejoined, his roommates could be the first targets for interrogation on everything Harry had kept out of the public eye until now. Hell, the very concept that Voldemort could be coming back was dangerous. 

“You don’t have to tell us,” Draco said, voice suddenly sharp, as if he could read Harry’s thoughts. “You have just as much right to secrets as we do.” 

“I still want to know everything you can tell us, though,” Blaise added. “Anything that you don’t think is too dangerous to keep hidden.” 

Harry thought on that. What could be considered ‘not dangerous’ that he hadn’t told his friends? There was Sila. Draco knew about her, and that Harry was still going down to the Chamber, but if Voldemort found out that Harry hadn’t killed her, he might try to take her under his control again. He couldn’t talk about Sirius at all. It was to risky. One slip and Auror’s would be knocking down the wards on the house. He had already mentioned Pettigrew, but if he explained more, then he would have to admit that Pettigrew was probably about to resurrect Voldemort, if he hadn’t already. 

“I’ll have to get back to you on that,” Harry confessed. 

While they seemed to accept that, they all looked mildly concerned. And rightfully so… 

XxXXxX

_ Dear Mom, _

_ I’m not sure if you’ve heard yet, but I made a mistake. After all this time, I was careless and forgot to replace the glamour you taught me to hide my scar. The Second Task was in the lake, and it wore off while I was under. When I came out, the concealer was gone and Draco saw. I wasn’t able to stop him from saying my old name out loud, and Professor Snape had to escort me back to the castle.  _

_ I really am sorry that I messed up. I promise that I’ll be more careful in the future, but I won’t let this change anything.  _

_ There is some good news, I guess. Since I left early, I didn’t get to hear the scores, so Ron and Hermione filled me in after I talked with my Slytherin friends. Since I was the first one to return, and the only one within the time limit, I got the highest score. I also got bonus points for my ‘determination to save all hostages’. I’m in the lead for the Tournament by four points, with Cedric Diggory behind me at 83. I might be able to win the Tournament.  _

_ Love,  _

_ Harry _

_ XxXXxX _

_ Dearest Harrison,  _

_ At the time of writing this, there has yet to be an article about this revelation. I sent letters to Emit and Neva. Hopefully, they will be able to do something about the article. They may not be able to write the article themselves, but they may be able to stop someone like Skeeter from writing it.  _

_ I’m not upset, Harrison. Really, the decision to change your name was yours, and while I’m disappointed that you didn’t get to reveal this on your own terms, know that we will support you at every turn. We will do everything we can to make sure that you aren’t treated differently. If you need anything, be sure to tell us.  _

_ I’m sure that if you did your best, you could win the tournament no matter what was thrown at you. But I’m not sure that, with the current circumstances, that you should. Someone put your name in the tournament, and if their plan was to get you killed, then they may have a plan for if you succeed. You have to be careful even more careful.  _

_ With all my love, _

_ Mother _

XxXXxX

Harry spent the next three months trying to ignore the way the other students were reacting to him. The ‘Alistair is Potter’ thing hadn’t died down at all. He’d tried to keep putting on the cover up and the glamour, but people kept whispering about it and he gave up after a week. Then they were whispering about his scar. He just… wanted them to stop. 

“Harry,” Hermione sighed, when she finally found him, hidden away in the center of Sila’s nest in the Chamber. “You can’t just hide away in here.” 

“Why not?” It was kind of childish, and maybe a bit petty, to run and hide from his problems. But Harry really didn't care right now. He was tired of people's staring. "I don't like being stared at like I'm a creature in a zoo." 

With another sigh, Hermione moved to sit next to him, even as Sila shifted to encircle them. "Harry, we've been looking for you for hours. We're all so worried about you, and you aren't talking to us. Not me, Ron, or Draco. Even Marissa is getting worried." 

Harry winced at that. "I guess I haven't been very open with my thoughts recently…" 

With a sigh, Harry pulled his knees up to his chest, pressing his forehead against them. The months felt so long, and Skeeter wasn’t helping. There was just so much on his plate, too much to worry about, and too much being pushed on him all at once. The Tournament, Voldemort, Pettigrew, his name, his identity, his family, his training. The list of things he had to worry about was just getting longer. 

It was only made worse by the fact that,while the Slytherin’s had promised that nothing had changed, it was clear that most of their views of him had changed. Theo had become almost skittish around him, hiding away in his books even more then before, while the girls had taken a large step back, and seemed to whisper behind his back even more then before. And while Draco was at least  _ trying  _ to act natural, every now and then Harry would find him staring. Really, only Blaise was acting normal. 

“I know this is getting difficult,” Hermione said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “But just remember that we’re here for you. Me, Ron, and even Malfoy. We’re here to help, and we always will be. So… talk to us. Let us help.” 

He smiled, leaning over to bump her shoulder with his. “Thanks, Hermione. I’ll try to remember that.”

XxXXxX

In the week that followed the little intervention in the Chamber, Harry did his best to ignore the whispers and be around his friends more. It helped that his friends, especially the Slytherin's, were willing to throw curses and hexes on his behalf. He never let them, but it was the thought that counts. 

When Bagman finally came back, Harry and the other Champions were led down to the Quidditch Pitch. The once flat and soft sand was replaced with zigzagging and intertwining lines of shrubbery. Harry knelt down to peer at the shrubs, frowning a bit. 

“They’re hedges,” he mused. 

“Right you are!” Bagman beamed. “Give them a few days and Hagrid’ll have them twenty feet! Though, I’m sure you can guess what we’re making here.” 

“A maze,” Viktor grunted, brow knit together. “That is the third task?” 

Bagman beamed. “That’s right! This task will be very straightforward. A Triwizard cup will be placed in the center of the maze before it starts. You will have as long as you need to grab it. The first to touch it will be the true Triwizard Champion!” 

It sounded almost too easy to Harry. If all they had to do was go through a maze, then that wasn’t much of a test of their skill. It would be more a test of speed and sense of direction. And clearly, Harry wasn’t the only one suspicious. 

“We simply ’ave to get through the maze?” Fluer asked, looking warily down at the shrubs, as if they would jump up and attack her. 

Bouncing all to happily on the balls of his feet, Bagman hummed. “There will be obstacles. A number of creatures will be provided from Hagrid. There will be plenty of spells in place to try and slow you down, or stop you all together. Not to mention, each other if you happen to cross paths. We’ll stagger your entrance in the maze, highest points goes first, and so on. But you’ll all have a fair shot, depending on how quickly you can get through obstacles. Should be fun, eh?” 

While Harry didn’t think it was going to be fun at all, he nodded politely along with the others and waited to be dismissed. It was late, and cold, and Harry was going to have to start planning. Hagrid had tons of dangerous creatures, only some of which he had met. Fluffy was one, and he was at least somewhat allied with the centaurs of the Forbidden Forest. The last thing Harry was going to want was an ambush from a centaur, or to turn a corner and find Fluffy’s three heads waiting to eat him. 

As Harry made his way up to the castle after being dismissed, he heard the soft thump of feet running after him. Hand already on his wand, just to be safe, he turned to see if his follower was friend or foe. Thankfully it was the former, as it was only Viktor. 

“Harry,” Viktor said, frowning a bit. “Can I haff a vord vith you?” 

He frowned, wondering why the older boy would want to talk with him so badly. Still, he nodded and turned to look at his friend, 

“Sure,” he said. “What is it?” 

While Viktor looked a bit uncomfortable, he seemed to be steeling himself for whatever he needed to say. “I think I need to apologize. For not trying to talk ven your… secret vas revealed. Hermioninny said that I should.” 

Blinking, Harry frowned. “Uh, thanks, I guess? But I’m not mad. Really. It’s not your fault I was keeping it secret. So if that’s all, I kind of want to go to bed.” 

“Vait!” Viktor said, voice sharp now. “I… I vould like some advice. It is… Hermioninny…” 

“Hermione? What about her?” 

“She is vonderful.” Harry’s words must have come out sharper then he intended, because Viktor seemed rather… scared. “Very vonderful. And beautiful… I do not vant our time together to end vith the tournament, and vould like to invite her to Bulgeria for summer. But I do not know… Muggle customs.” 

For a minute, Harry wasn’t sure what Viktor was asking. It almost sounded like Viktor was asking  _ Harry  _ for advice on how to ask Hermione to be his  _ girlfriend _ . It was so ridiculous, Harry almost wanted to laugh. Seriously, a famous eighteen year old Quidditch player was asking Harry for dating advice. 

“Just be yourself,” Harry said, then almost laughed at how cliche that sounded. “Just be you, and ask her if she wants to visit you over the summer. But ask her out on a date first, maybe to Hogsmeade, before the third task if you can. Make sure you’re both on the same page for what you want your relationship to be.” 

Nodding, Viktor seemed to be thinking this over. He thanked Harry, and turned to make his way across the grounds to the Durmstrang ship. Harry, meanwhile, just shook his head and continued on his way back to the dungeons. 


	16. Third Task

With the basic knowledge of the final task, Harry spent most of the last week reviewing every spell he thought he could need. He did it mostly on his own, since he could reuse most of Hermione’s notes from the previous tasks, and he didn’t want to bother his friends with this anymore then he had to. They had their own things to worry about. 

Viktor had taken Harry’s advice to heart, and asked Hermione out on a date. While they couldn’t get out and go to Hogsmeade, they were planning to take a lunch in a boat out on the lake. Draco’s father was starting to breathe down his neck, sending letter after letter, though Harry could only guess at what was in them. Whatever it was, it was making Draco rather jumpy. And while most of his other friends or family didn’t have much going on, they were approaching the end of the school year. There would be exams, and fifth and seventh years were preparing for their OWLs and NEWTs. 

So Harry prepared on his own. 

By the time the final task came, Harry was prepared for anything. After his classes that day, he got dressed in his champions garb, long sleeve shirts and pants, with their names sewn into the back of their shirts. He wasn’t given a holster for his wand this time, like he had for the second task, though he wasn’t sure he would have used it. 

Before they were sent out to the entrance for the maze, each of the Champions were sent down to a room, where their families were waiting. Harry wasn’t that surprised that his mother and father were there to check on him, but he was surprised to find Padfoot seated beside them. 

Instantly, his dog disguised godfather (his dogfather?) was running up to him. He laughed, a little nervously, as he pushed Padfoot off him to go to his parents. Exchanging hugs with each of them, Harry glanced from Padfoot to his parents. 

“We thought you could use all the support you could get,” his mother said, using one hand to smooth back his hair. “My darling baby boy…” 

“Do not coddle the boy,” his father gruffed. “He’s nearly fifteen. Nearly a young man.” 

“Oh, Gerald,” she sighed, shaking her head. “We’re not here to lecture him, remember? We’re here to wish him luck.” 

Harry frowned. His mother had never approved of him being in the tournament. And while she wanted him to survive, she would never ask him to win a tournament that could get him killed. They were here for something else, something that they couldn’t say in a letter. 

“Why don’t we take a quick walk,” his mother said, smiling. “Get some air before you have to go out.” 

He nodded, leading them out of the room and out towards the lake. His parents flanked him on either side, with Padfoot trotting ahead of them, sniffing at the ground every once in a while. When his father made a soft grunt, and gestured to the bench by the boat house, Harry didn’t hesitate to lead them over to the bench. Padfoot, on the other hand, darted around the corner of the boat house, where he could change back into Sirius without being seen. 

Before anything could be said, Harry spoke up. “Did you find something?” 

“Guess you could say that,” Sirius said, leaning on the wall and crossing his arms. “We’ve been talking about why someone would have put your name in that cup. And why they haven’t done anything yet.” 

“You think they’ll try something during the third task? In the maze?” 

“If they wanted you dead, there were plenty of opportunities to do so, but they didn’t,” his father said, face as stern as ever. “They could have cursed the golden egg, or turned it into a portkey. They could have bribed the mermaids or set an ambush in the water. Now, you will go into the maze, alone, where no one can see you.” 

While Harry had been nervous before, his stomach rolled in terror. If the first two tasks were meant to kill him, and failed, then the third task would be the perfect place to finally off him. The possibilities were endless. If he was meant to die in the Tournament, it would be during the third task. 

“Harrison,” his mother said, voice soft and wary. She was looking at him with concern. “You have to throw the tournament.” 

He knew that he was supposed to agree. That he had to say yes, and send up the red sparks as soon as was acceptable. But… If there were people, or monsters, or traps in the maze, set  _ specifically _ to kill him… What would happen to Viktor, Cedric, or Fleur if they stumbled into it instead? 

Viktor was his friend, and Harry knew that Hermione had grown so close with him over the past months. Losing him… It would be a tragedy. He couldn’t let Cedric die either. The older boy was a good guy, and a friend to so many. His loss would be a wound for so many, and Harry wouldn’t want to inflict that pain. And while he didn’t know Fluer that well, Harry wouldn’t want to see the pain on her little sisters face when her body was found. 

“No,” he said, voice far to calm for his own good. Instantly, his parents and Sirius were staring at him. 

“What?” his mother said. “Harrison, a silly cup and a bag of Galleons isn’t worth your life.” 

“But is my life worth more then the lives of my competitors?” 

They were silent, unable to speak. Harry couldn’t blame them for forgetting what running away could mean for the others in the Tournament. They were worried for the attacks aimed at him, and didn’t have time to worry about the backlash that could follow a failure. 

“I had a feeling,” his father said. “That you wouldn’t agree. So, I brought you these.” 

Pulling his coat open, his father reached in with one hand and pulled out two long and wriggling objects, one red and the other green. Harry recognized them immediately. It was Honavi and Nikoa. 

Without a word, his father held out his hand, letting the two vipers curl and wind their way around Harry’s neck and shoulders. Both snakes gave pleased hisses, carefully burrowing into his shirt. While it was a small comfort, Harry was glad to have the two snakes. It had been so long since he’d brought them to school with him, and while he would have to sneak them into the final task, they could be helpful. 

They took a moment to let Harry find a way to hide them, before they returned to the pitch, where the Champions would enter the maze. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice his hidden snakes, and he joined the other champions waiting as Bagman made his announcement. Harry didn’t listen, taking deep breaths as he turned to look toward the entrance of the maze. He watched Moody take a step out of the hedges, the magic eye swiveling around. 

Harry didn’t have time to think about what Moody had been doing before he heard the blow of the whistle. Instantly, he turned and ran into the entrance of the maze, wand gripped tight in his hand. He didn’t slow, even after the cheers of the crowd had faded into nothing. He kept running, turning left at the first fork in the path. If he was lucky, he could draw any possible traps away from the other champions. And if not, well… The sooner the Tournament was over, the better. 

When the burn in his lungs became too much, Harry slowed down to a walk as he panted. Honavi and Nikoa slid back up to poke their heads out of his collar, keeping an eye at his back for him. Pulling out his wand, he used the Point Me charm to find north. It was to his right, pointing at a solid hedge. The cup was in the center of the maze, and he had entered from the south… He’d have to take the first right he could, to get to the cup. 

He walked for a bit, just to catch his breath, before running again. He took the first right he could, coming up to a crossroads at the same time as Cedric dived around a corner, breathing hard. 

“They put some kind of three headed dog down that way,” Cedric warned, barely taking a second before he was diving back down a path. 

Glancing the way Cedric had come, he decided he didn’t want another encounter with Fluffy. First year had been enough. So he dashed down the fourth path, and kept going. He turned a corner, and almost ran straight into a black hooded figure. 

Instantly, his heart clenched in fear. He didn’t hesitate, throwing up his arm and sending out his Patronus. While he had a bit of training with it over the summer, the shape of the animal was undefined, a bright silvery wisp dashed forward, running through the dementor. The dementor didn’t recoil like Harry knew it should, instead tripping on the hem of its robe. Realizing his mistake, Harry sent a quick Riddikulus and ran past as it went up in smoke. 

He took turn after turn, ending up at more then a few dead ends, and having to double back when he realized he was going to far east. Doubling back, Harry kept running. He turned a corner and had to duck past Fluffy as the three heads snapped at him. He didn’t bother trying to fight the dog, instead taking note of the thick chain that held him in this section of the path. Harry ducked under another snap of Fluffy’s three jaws, and ran out of reach of the three headed hound. 

Breathing hard, Harry slid to a stop as he turned at a fork only to come to a dead end again. He took a minute to control his beating heart, breath, and regain his bearings. Honavi and Nikoa were giving soft hisses, trying to soothe him. He didn’t care that his pounding heart and the rush of blood in his ears was making it hard to hear them, since their company was more then enough for him. 

As he used another Point Me spell, a scream echoed from somewhere in the maze. It sounded like Fluer. Harry’s heart dropped as he thought about what it could have been. Was it just another part of the Tournament? Or were enemies somewhere inside, searching for Harry, only to find Fluer instead? 

Hoping to god that wasn’t the case, Harry took off again. He continued down his new path, looking down every turn before he took them, checking for dead ends or enemies. As he moved down another path, Harry heard another voice, this time just around the corner. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Cedric shouted, voice sharp. “What are you-” 

“ _ Crucio _ !” 

The second voice was all too familiar. Eyes wide, Harry lunged forward, raising his wand as Cedric’s screams filled his ears. As soon as Harry slid into view, Viktor raised his head, eyes glazed and glass, standing over Cedric. 

“ _ Stupefy _ !” Harry shouted, sending the stunner at his friend. 

The older boy flew back, landing on the ground with a thump. Moving forward, Harry quickly reached out to offer Cedric his hand. Hands still shaking, the Hufflepuff took it, eyes on Viktor even as he lay motionless on the ground. 

“He was bewitched,” Harry hissed, when Cedric reached for his wand, pushing the other boy away from Viktor. “One of the traps must have gotten him.” 

Cedric didn’t seem all that convinced, but he didn’t try to fight Harry. Instead, he gave a nod of thanks, and continued down his path. Glancing down at his friend, Harry chewed his lip. He couldn’t leave him here, out in the open where a boggart or whatever else was in the maze could find him. So Harry pointed his wand skyward, shooting off red sparks to mark where Viktor lay before he continued on his way. The Tournament officials would send someone to fetch him. 

Continuing on his way, Harry looked around for any sign of Cedric. He took a turn, hoping he was getting closer to the end. The growing darkness seemed to indicate so, as he saw movement ahead of him. 

When he came to a stop, it was under the watchful gaze of a beast he had only seen in his textbooks. The overgrown shape of a lions body, with large clawed paws and a long skinny tail slowly flicking behind her. Her head, that of a woman, was turned down to watch him with almond shaped eyes filled with wisdom. 

“You are very near your goal,” the sphinx hoarse voice said. “The quickest way is past me.” 

“And you’re going to let me through?” Harry asked, though he had a feeling he already knew the answer. 

“No. Not unless you can solve my riddle. Answer on your first guess, I let you pass. Answer wrong, I attack. Remain silent, I let you walk away from me unscathed.” 

While Hermione was the better of them at riddles, Harry knew that he would at least try. There was little harm in at least hearing it. If it was too hard, he could just walk away to find an easier way. And, if he could answer, then he would be all the closer to his goal. 

“Okay,” he said. “Tell me.” 

With an almost coy smile, the sphinx sat back on the path, blocking it with her body as she began to recite. 

“ _ First, think of the person who lives in disguise, _ _   
_ _ Who deals in secrets and tells naught but lies.  _ _   
_ _ Next, tell me what’s always the last to mend, _ _   
_ _ The middle of middle and the end of the end.  _ _   
_ _ Finally, give me the sound often heard, _ _   
_ _ During the search for a hard to find word.  _ _   
_ _ Now string them together, and answer me this: _ _   
_ __ What creature would you be unwilling to kiss? ” 

Blinking, Harry through over each part. It all added up to something he wouldn’t want to kiss. He asked her to repeat it, working slowly over each part as he thought. Honavi was making noises of annoyance, clearly not pleased. Nikoa, on the other hand, was the scholar of the two. 

“ _ One who lives in disguise, _ ” he hissed into Harry’s ear. “ _ An imposter, or a…? _ ” 

“Spy,” Harry said, blinking as he looked at the green snake. “The first part is spy?” 

The sphinx didn’t confirm or deny, but Nikoa nodded. Instantly, Harry’s mind jumped to think of everything he knew that started with ‘spy’ or at least the sound. He couldn’t think of much, just spider. And Ron definitely wouldn’t want to kiss one of those. 

“A spider,” Harry called, deciding to take the risk of being wrong. “The creature I wouldn’t want to kiss is a spider.” 

At first, Harry thought he might have been wrong. But the sphinx smiled broadly, getting up from her spot to move out of the way. With a beaming grin, Harry dashed forward turning his head to thank Nikoa for his help. 

When he came to a fork in the path, Harry took a moment to take a hard look down the two paths. The one leading to the right seemed to have a light glow that could be the cup. Just to be sure, Harry cast one more Point Me, and felt his heart start pounding when he found it pointing directly down the right path. 

Running forward, the light became brighter and brighter. And as Harry turned a corner, he could see it. The cup, bright and shining, gleaming under the night sky. He burst out of the maze, into a small clearing, the cup in the center. But he wasn’t the only one there. 

At the same time, Cedric had jumped out of the maze from an exit just to Harry's left. For a second, the two boys stared at each other, weighing their options. Cedric was smart, and physically stronger then Harry. But Harry was fast, and knew something that Cedric didn’t. The Cup might have been tampered with. So, the only question was, could Harry run and grab it faster then Cedric could stun him? 

Not taking the risk, Harry bolted towards the stand the cup was on. Cedric ran with him, raising his wand. Instantly, Harry hissed in parseltongue. 

“ _ Honavi _ !” 

With a sharp hiss, Honavi flew off his shoulder, flying threw the air and wrapping around Cedric’s arm. The Hufflepuff instantly jumped back, dropping his wand in his panic. Wide eyed, Cedric turned betrayed eyes to Harry. 

Reaching out his arm, Honavi jumped back to him. Harry didn’t feel bad, instead reaching out and taking the cup, dragged off in the familiar pull of a portkey. 


	17. The Graveyard

When the twist and pull of the Portkey finally stopped, Harry was thrown forward onto the ground, the cup flying off to one side to clatter against something. Groaning in pain, Harry slowly rose to his feet. He hissed before he could get all the way up, a sharp jolt of pain shooting up his leg making him sit down again. 

“ _ Harry? _ ” Honavi hissed, worry clear in her voice as she and Nikoa slither out of his shirt to the ground. “ _ What happened? Are you hurt? _ ” 

“ _ I think I twisted my ankle or something when I fell, _ ” Harry told her. “ _ Can you go get the cup? The Portkey might still work, but I don’t think I can walk. _ ” 

As Honavi and Nikoa slither off to get the cup, Harry turns around to get a better look at his surroundings from his spot on the ground. He’s in some kind of cemetary, clearly not on Hogwarts grounds, and not anywhere Harry remembered seeing. The cup had deposited him at the foot of a tombstone of one of the graves. 

“Sorry,” Harry said as he pushed himself off the raised patch of earth, feeling almost silly talking to a grave. Still, he thought it best, since he went to a school where ghosts were common. “I didn’t mean any disrespect to-” 

His eyes darting to the name on the marble headstone, Harry felt his blood run cold. The name was familiar, familiar, even if the date wasn’t. That name that he had learned in his second year, the name that had been seared into his brain. The name of his greatest enemy. Tom Riddle. 

Scrambling back, Harry tried to push himself to his feet, only to hiss again at pressure on his leg, and fall back. His head bounced against another headstone, making his vision blur. He didn’t realize until someone came into his vision that his ears were ringing, the quickly spoken spell echoing in his ears. 

Before Harry could move, he found himself being pushed up against the tomb stone, his feet dangling helplessly below him. He blinked, rapidly, trying to clear his vision, as tight cords shot out of the figures wand to bind him to the grave marker. It was then that he saw the hand clutching the wand, missing a finger and shaking ever so slightly. There was only one Harry knew of that had a hand like that. 

“Wormtail,” Harry snarled out, making the fat man squeak. 

Quickly, Wormtail stuffed a black cloth in his mouth, fingers twitching and hands shaking. As Harry glared and tried to force the bundle out of his mouth, the slimey rat scurried off. It wasn’t long before he heard the wheezing of his return though, this time with a massive stone cauldron, big enough to fit a full grown man inside. 

Moving as quickly as he could, Wormtail set the undoubtedly heavy cauldron down not to far from Harry. The man took a few steps back, his shaking wand hand pointing down at the ground to start a fire, before liquid inside the cauldron began to bubble. With every pop of a bubble, sparks burst up to snap, as if the liquid itself were on fire. Steam billowed up, making a hazy cloud distort Wormtail’s form even more then Harry’s likely concussion already did. 

“ _ Hurry! _ ” a cold, chilling voice hissed. 

Instantly, Harry’s eyes grew wide, darting towards the ground. There was a bundle, just a bit further from him then the boiling cauldron, that was squirming and wriggling in agitation. Harry felt sick, watching as a large snake, thicker than his thigh, slithered around the writhing cloth before disappearing into the dark. His heart jumped, fearing for Honavi and Nikoa, and what this new snake would do to them if it found either. 

“It is ready, Master,” Wormtail said, voice shaking just as much as his boots. 

“ _ Now… _ ” 

Quickly, Wormtail moved to the bundle. With a careful hand, he pulled aside the first layer, revealing what was inside. With his clouded vision, Harry could just barely make out the hideous thing. Just barely bigger then a small first year, the thing was boney and red, like it had been malnourished and skinned, but looked hard and scaly, covered in slime. Just looking at it made Harry want to throw up. 

When Wormtail reached down, thin bony arms snaked their way around the mans thick neck, making his hood fall back. Harry didn’t need his full sight to be able to tell that Wormtail was just as revolted. Still, he carried it to the cauldron, holding it out and lowering it to the water once it let go. Just before his hands could touch the popping and boiling liquid, Wormtail let the thing go, landing with a hiss and sinking below the surface. Harry hoped it drowned, though he knew by now it wouldn’t.

“ _ Bone of the father, _ ” Wormtail said, slow and shaking, “ _ unknowingly taken, you will revive your son. _ ” 

Below Harry’s suspended feet, the ground cracked and shifted. Soon, a dusty off white bone was pushing its way out of the earth, and floating up. It glided to the cauldron, dropping with a  _ plunk _ into the water. Sickly blue sparks jumped out in all directions, hissing furiously. 

“ _ F-Flesh, _ ” he stuttered, hands somehow shaking more as he pulled a long silver knife from his cloak, “ _ of a s-s-servent, willingly c-cloven, you will r-revive your m-master. _ ” 

Realizing what Wormtail was about to do, Harry squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head for good measure, to block the action from view. There was the woosh of a sharp object cutting through air, and a piercing scream the covered the sound of ripping flesh. When all Harry could hear was pained whimpering, and the echo of Wormtail’s scream faded from his ears, Harry opened his eyes, finding Wormtail holding a cloth around his shortened arm. The cauldron now bubbled and popped in blinding red light. 

“ _ Blood of the enemy, _ ” Wormtail whimpered, walking towards Harry with the silver knife, “ _ forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe. _ ” 

As the silver blade ran down Harry’s arm, his screams were muffled by the cloth in his mouth. It was over quickly, leaving Harry’s right arm wet with heavy blood, and flowing down. Fumbling with his one hand, Wormtail pulled out a vial, catching the dripping crimson drops with it. Then, Wormtail turned, shaking, and overturned the liquid into the cauldron. When it turned a shimmering white, the cowardice rat finally slumped to the ground, lying on his side to cradle his stump of a hand. 

Harry was left to watch in horror as the shimmering white quickly faded into a dark and inky black. The sparks died and a heavy cloud of steam began to billow up out of the cauldron. It clouded Harry’s vision, leaving nothing in sight. Then, as it died, Harry saw the outline of a man standing in the now empty cauldron, naked and bare, with bone white skin, blood red eyes, and a flat, slitted, snake-like nose. 

“Robe me,” the man, the monster, commanded. 

Still clutching is bloody and mutilated stump, Wormtail struggled to his feet. Using his one hand, he slid the robes over the man's head, and let them fall into place. Without a word, the man stepped out of the cauldron, bare footed, and turned to Harry. When their eyes met, the throb of Harry’s head grew worse, and he began to wonder if maybe it wasn’t just a concussion. 

“My Lord,” Wormtail whimpered. “You promised… You promised, My Lord…” 

Turning lazily, Voldemort held out his hand. “Your arm, Wormtail.” 

For a moment, Wormtail’s eyes lit with gratitude, lifting the bloody stump up. 

“The other arm.” 

Wormtail let out a gasping sob, looking like he could slump over again. Before he could, Voldemort reached down, snatching Wormtail’s left arm around the wrist, and pushing the sleeve of the cloak back. There, on Wormtail’s forearm, was the image that had appeared above the Quidditch World Cup. It was a bright red on the pale skin, and Voldemort examined it without a concern for Wormtail’s uncontrollable weeping. 

“It is back,” he mused softly. “They will have noticed it by now… And we shall see… We shall know.” 

Reaching down, a long clawed finger pressed roughly into the mark on Wormtail’s arm. Another loud scream escaped the man, and Harry let out another of his own into the cloth, a hot burn pressing into his scar. When the finger was pulled away, and spots danced in Harry’s eyes, he saw that the mark had morphed from the brilliant ruby red to a dark black. A cruel smile curled on the monstrous face of Harry’s enemy. 

“How many will be brave enough to come now that they’ve felt it,” Voldemort cackled. “And how many will be foolish enough to run?” 

It wasn’t long before the air was filled with the sound of swishing cloaks. All around, wizards were beginning to apparate. All of them in black, hooded cloaks, and wearing bone white masks like the face of a skull. They all came slowly closer , cautious, like they weren’t sure if this was real. All the while, Voldemort stood silent, watching, waiting. 

Finally, something in the air seemed to break, and the nearest Death Eater fell to his knees, grasping at the edge of Voldemort’s cloak to kiss it, like a servant would a king's boot. The others were quick to follow, dropping to their knees and kissing his robes. Then, they would back away, standing up and forming a silent circle around Voldemort, Harry, and the twitching lump that was Wormtail. While Harry couldn’t see the one’s behind him, he could see, even with his blurred vision, that there were clearly gaps in the circle. Not all the Death Eaters had come. Were those missing spots supposed to be filled by someone in Azkaban, or had some of Voldemort’s followers fled? 

“Welcome,” Voldemort said, voice a quiet hiss that somehow filled the air. “My Death Eaters… Thirteen years… Thirteen years since we last met, yet you answer my call as though it were yesterday. We are still joined under the Dark Mark then!” 

With a sniff, slitted nostrils widening, the venomous look returned, making a shiver ran through the circle. “Yet I smell guilt. The stench of it is clear in the air. And I wonder, as I see you all, whole and healthy, with your powers intact… And to have made such prompt appearances… Why did this band of wizards never come to the aid of their master, to whom they have sworn eternal loyalty?” 

Not a word was spoken. No one moved, save for Wormtail, still sobbing and shaking on the ground. 

“So I answer myself,” Voldemort continues. “They must have believed me broken. That I was gone. So they slipped back in among my enemies. They pleaded innocence, ignorance, and bewitchment. And then I ask myself, but how could they have believed I would not rise again? Those who knew of the steps I took, so long ago, to shield myself against mortal death? They, who have seen proof of my immense power in the time I was mightier than any wizard alive? 

“And I answer myself again. Perhaps they believed a greater power still could exist. One that could vanquish even Lord Voldemort. Perhaps now give their loyalty to another. Perhaps that champion of commoners, of Mudbloods and Muggles, Albus Dumbledore?” 

At the mention of Dumbledore’s name, the circle stirred and whispered. Death Eaters shook their heads, muttering. Harry couldn’t help but agree with them at least on that. Dumbledore wasn’t a man that should be followed, but at least Harry would rather side with Dumbledore then with Voldemort. 

“I confess that it is a disappointment,” he said, ignoring his followers' quiet objections. “I am disappointed.” 

At that, one of the Death Eaters flings himself out of the circle at Voldemort’s feet. He pleads, begs for forgiveness. For him, for the others. But Voldemort is clearly not in a forgiving mood, as he raises his wand and without mercy casts a Cruciartus curse on his pitiful follower. The shrieks of the Death Eater seemed to echo all around, and made Harry’s already pounding head hurt all the more. 

“Get up, Avery,” Voldemort commands, pulling his wand away. The man moves on shaky limbs back into his place. “You ask for forgiveness, yet, I do not forgive. I do not forget. For thirteen years, I have waited… And all of you will pay for your thirteen years of betrayal. Wormtail here has already begun to repay me for those thirteen years. 

“You returned to me, though not out of loyalty. You returned out of fear of what your old friends would do to you. You deserve this pain, Wormtail. Yet, you have helped me return to my body. As worthless and traitorous as you are, you did help me… And Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers.” 

For a moment, Voldemort turned and waved his wand above his head. Something liquid, but metallic now hung there, shapeless, until it began to twist and change. Soon, it became a perfect replica of a human hand and rushed down to join with Wormtail at his bloody wrist. 

When Wormtail’s sobs had subsided into awe, Voldemort sneered. 

“May your loyalty never waiver again,” he said, letting the traitor kiss his robes before joining the circle. 

With that, Voldemort began to make his way around the circle to address his Death Eaters, starting at Wormtail's right. Knowing that what came next could be important if he escaped, Harry closed his eyes to help commit every word to memory. 

Lucius Malfoy was first, and it stung. Draco’s father, a man he knew he would likely never respect, but not one he thought he would hate… The Lestranges, away in Azkaban. Macnair, doing something with beasts for the Ministry. Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle, dimmer then their sons, and much more quiet. Then Mr. Nott, already a displeasurable man, sucking up to Voldemort. Three dead, one fled, and one lost forever. And then, the revelation. 

“One who has already returned to me,” Voldemort said, voice cool and pleased. “Who remains faithful and loyal. He is at Hogwarts now, my faithful servant. And it is through his efforts that our young friend is here tonight.” 

It was then that Voldemort began to reveal his story to them all. 

After that night in Godric’s Hollow, all those years ago, Voldemort had been left formless, wondering in a ghostly form, waiting for his followers to come for him. Yet, no one came. He was left, alone, to possess animals to survive. And then, just his luck, he found Quirrel. He possessed him, used him, only to fail at Harry’s own hand, once again. 

Then, barely a year ago, Wormtail had come looking. He searched for Voldemort in the country he was rumored to be in. And, with the help of the rats of the forest, they were reunited. And, along the way, Wormtail had stopped at an inn for food, where he ran into a woman named Bertha Jorkins, a ministry witch that was helping with the Triwizard Tournament. 

After getting everything they wanted out of Bertha, she was left broken in both body and mind. Useless, and was quickly disposed of. And while Wormtail was useless for possession, he was a good footman, able to follow commands. So, with some Unicorn blood and the venom of the snake, Nagini, who was circling the Death Eaters, Voldemort was given enough strength to travel to where they would make a potion of Voldemort’s own design. 

Wormtails would do for the flesh of a servant, and they would have to come to this cemetery for his fathers bone, but who to get the blood from? While Wormtail would have used anyone, Voldemort insisted that it had to be Harry. So he had his loyal follower, already at Hogwarts, put Harry’s name into the Goblet of Fire, ensuring that, when the time was right, he would be brought her. Away from family, friends, and, most importantly, Dumbledore’s watchful eye. 

Then, Voldemort turned and cast, Harry clenching his teeth, unable to scream as pain seared through every nerve in his body. It was worse then anything Harry had ever felt, before it was suddenly gone, leaving him panting and limp in his binding. The Death Eaters' laughter rang out all around them. 

“I think how foolish it was to believe this boy could ever be stronger then me,” Voldemort said, his red eyes glinting with amusement as Harry looked up. “But there will be no mistake in anybody's mind. Harry Potter escaped me by a lucky chance. And I will prove my power by killing him, here and now, where there is no Dumbledore to help in, no mother to die for him. But I will give him his chance. He will be allowed to fight, and you will be left with no doubt which of us is stronger.” 

With the slightest twitch of the man's lips, a wicked smile grew. “Now, untie him, Wormtail. And give him back his wand.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, just three more chapters for GoF! And... while I have started on OotP, I only have two chapters done. So, when I do start posting that, would you prefer me to just post them as I finish, or wait until I can keep a sort of weekly schedule?


	18. The Duel

When Wormtail came to let him lose, Harry thought about running. But he knew, with Death Eaters all around and that snake slithering nearby, he didn’t have a chance of getting away. He didn’t know if the cup would actually take him back to Hogwarts, or if Honavi and Nikoa have managed to move it or had been killed by Voldemort’s snake. 

Once the ropes were gone, Harry was left to balance awkwardly on one foot, leaning against the tombstone as Wormtail handed him his wand. Taking a deep breath, he weighed the familiar wand in his hand, looking from it to Voldemort, then glanced around. The Death Eaters had closed ranks, stepping in closer to fill the gaps between them. Harry made sure to look directly into the eyes of the Death Eaters he knew, the fathers of his dorm mates, people he saw at the Summer Gala every year. Mr. Nott didn’t flinch, staring right back at Harry, but Crabbe and Goyles fathers darted their eyes away when they met Harry’s gaze. 

Mr. Malfoy, though… The man didn’t let Harry meet his gaze. He closed his eyes, turned ever so slightly, to avoid making eye contact. Filled with a rage he had never felt before, Harry curled his fingers a little tighter around his wand. He didn’t understand how Mr. Malfoy could side with Voldemort, to stand by and watch Harry get murdered by one of the worst men in history. Mr. Malfoy knew Harry’s parents, his brothers and sisters, and he knew how Harry had saved Draco in the Chamber two years ago. 

A realization slammed into Harry at that moment. And a plan began to brew in his head. 

“You have been taught how to duel, haven’t you Harry Potter?” Voldemort sneered, making a few of the Death Eaters laugh. 

Harry swallowed, turning to lock his eyes with Voldemort’s. “I have,” Harry said, doing his best to keep his voice steady and sure. “But I can’t see why that would matter now. Everyone here knows this isn’t a duel. It’s an execution.” 

Voldemort’s eyes narrowed, slitted nostrils flaring. “You think you can defeat me, boy?” 

“Not at all,” Harry said, shaking his head. His eyes darted around the circle, looking between small gaps, searching for the faint glow of the cup. Luckily, it was just where he needed it to be. “But, really. I’m just a kid, haven’t even taken my OWLs, and you think I’m a threat? Especially now, with my leg all busted up, and surrounded by your followers? This isn’t a duel, Tom.” 

The name hung in the air, heavy and dark, as Harry kept his eyes solely on Voldemort. The man was furious, nose flaring more and his snake rising up to hiss in rage. Still, Harry could see him holding onto the smallest bit of calm, keeping him from just out right attacking. The Death Eaters remained still, not a single one laughing now. 

With a sneer, Voldemort raised his wand. “Then will you not fight? Will the Boy Who Lived simply lay down and die?” 

Harry, in turn, raised his own wand. “Of course not, Tom. But I thought you wanted a duel. Don’t you know that we’re supposed to start with a bow?” 

He could practically see the rage boiling under Voldemort’s skin. Honestly, Harry thought Voldemort would just attack him out right. But Harry still put up with his charade, and leaned forward ever so slightly. Thankfully, Voldemort did the same, sneering at Harry. But Harry had gotten what he wanted, having earned the better look at what was behind Lucius Malfoy. 

When they rose, Harry was ready to move. Voldemort didn’t hesitate, raising his wand to cast quick and fast. Harry was ready, though, and dove behind the tombstone of Tom Riddle Sr. The Cruciatus curse bounced off the stone, chipping it and sending shards raining down on Harry’s head. He was left face to face with some of the Death Eater’s, but they simply stared. They wouldn’t try anything, Harry knew, since so many of them were cowards too afraid of Voldemort to interfere. 

“We are not playing hide and seek, Harry Potter,” Voldemort sneered, his robes rustling the grass as he likely came closer. “You can not hide. Are you tired of our duel? Do you wish to see me finish you now? Come out, Harry. I will make it quick… It could even be painless, though I would not know. I have never died.” 

His heart pounding in his chest, Harry did his best to take deep and calming breaths. He had a plan, and he could make it work. If he could just get to Lucius… If he could just get to Lucius, he could get the cup, Honavi and Nikoa, and use that Portkey to return to Hogwarts. 

Harry was ready to make his move, keeping his eyes locked on where Voldemort would poke his head around the tombstone. He backed away, slowly, getting just to the edge of stone, as that pale, claw like hand curled around the rim. When Harry saw the tip of Voldemort’s yew wand, he jumped and bolted towards Lucius. Death Eaters shouted and gasped, as a jet of green shot at the ground where Harry had been. 

Just before he actually reached Lucius, he turned, wand at the ready, to cast at Voldemort. He went with instinct, hoping he would have just enough time to disarm the deadly man. The jet of red light shot forward, zipping through the air at the same time a jet of green shot from Voldemort’s wand. Wide eyed, Harry stared as the two streams met in midair. And then they merged, turning gold as light shot and arched around them to form a dome. 

Outside the dome, Death Eaters were shouting, asking for instructions as they pulled their wands. Only, Voldemort seemed just as surprised and confused as Harry. He shouted for his followers to do nothing, as Harry kept his eyes on the strange beam connecting his wand to Voldemort’s. And when they tried to pull their wands apart, they didn’t budge. Maybe Harry would have a few extra seconds to plan what he needed to do and say. 

Before Harry could start to think about it and as Voldemort commanded his followers not to move, strange things began to happen with their wands. Harry’s wand was beginning to shake and vibrate, like it was trying to jump out of his hand as if he had been hit with a disarming spell. Red sparks soon followed. But Harry wasn’t watching his own wand. He was watching Voldemort’s. A shrill scream of true pain was coming from the wand, soon to be followed by the ghostly wispy form of a hand. There were more screams, before something else emerged from the tip of Voldemort’s wand. 

It was a man, old and seemingly familiar, even though Harry had never seen him before. Harry stared, watched open mouthed as the man pulled himself free of the wand. He stepped out, looking from Harry to Voldemort, then at the area around them with only a bit of surprise. With a huff, he scowled at Voldemort, walking towards Harry, leaning on his cane. 

“He was a real wizard,” the man huffed in irritation, scowling at Voldemort, who stared back in shock. “Killed me, that one did. Don’t give up, boy. Fight him.” 

Harry wasn’t sure if he should thank the old man or not, but didn’t get the chance as another figure was emerging from the wand. This time, a woman. Harry didn’t recognize her, but he suspected she was Bertha Jorkins. After all, if these were people that Voldemort had recently killed…

The smokey ghost of Bertha nodded at Harry, face determined. “Don’t let go, now!” she told him. “You’re an Alistair, aren’t you?!” 

His heart jumped in his chest, and Harry squeezed his wand tighter in his fist. Swallowing, Harry gave her a nod, wondering how she knew who she was, but having to let it go. Another form was beginning to emerge, and Harry… Harry actually knew for certain who it was when he saw her face. 

Long hair flowing down her shoulders, the woman smiled at him. She walked to him, her smokey hand moving to his wand, sliding up to cover his hand were her own. It didn’t feel solid, just a faint tingle that helped steady him all the same. Heart pounding, Harry took his eyes off Voldemort to stare up at the ghostly face of his birth mother, Lily Potter. 

“Hold on, Harry,” she said, voice soft next to him. “Just hold on a bit more for your father. Everything will be alright.” 

And just like she said, a messy head of hair just like his own began to emerge from the wand. The smokey form stood up straight as Harry’s heart pounded a mile a minute. The shadow of James Potter walked to Harry, his lips twinging up at one corner as he moved to stand at Harry’s other side. 

“When the connection is broken, we’ll linger for only a moment,” James said, voice low as he placed wispy hand on Harry’s shoulder, voice low so only Harry could hear. “But it will give you time to get the Portkey. Do you understand, Harry?” 

“Yes,” Harry rasped. His throat was dry, and he was fighting to steady his fast beating heart. So many emotions he’d kept down for years were coming to the surface. There were so many things he wanted to say to the Potters, to ask them. He wanted to get to know them, but he knew that he had to move fast, not linger, and leave them behind. 

“It’s alright,” James said, reaching out to steady Harry’s hand the way Lily was. “You can do it.” 

“We love you,” Lily added, voice soft and said, as she smiled down at him. “We love you so much, and we know that you’ll make it out alright. Now… Break the connection.” 

With a sharp inhale, Harry jerked his wand upward, towards the sky. The golden thread broke, the dome of light vanishing with it. But the smokey ghosts of Voldemort’s victims do not. They rushed at Voldemort, blocking Harry from view as he turned. 

Eyes locking with Lucius Malfoy’s under the skull mask, Harry charged at him. The Death eaters all let out cries of surprise, and when Harry saw Lucius reach for his wand, Harry grinned. He was glad that Hermione had given him a book on wizarding etiquette. If she hadn’t, then he might not have known that a wizard could have the parent of an underage wizard pay back a Life Debt. So he supposed it was a good thing he never had Draco pay him back for second year.

“Lucius Malfoy,” Harry said bold and clear. “I invoke the life debt owed to me by Draco Malfoy! Stand aside!” 

Barely a second before Harry would have barreled through Lucius, the man gave a hiss of pain and was forced to drop his wand and move out of the way. Beaming, Harry lunged for the Triwizard cup. Voldemort’s hissed loudly behind him, demanding that he be stopped. But Harry was too close. His fingers wrapped around the handle of the cup between where Honavi and Nikoa had coiled around it. 

And just like that, he was being pulled away once more by the Portkey. 

XxXXxX

When Harry slammed once more to the ground, it was against fresh grass and silence.

Breathing hard, Harry kept his fingers clenched tight around the cup as his two snakes slid out of sight into the large cup. He clenched his eyes shut, just breathing as shock and exhaustion made his limbs heavy. He waited, shaking, for something,  _ anything _ , to happen, scar burning faintly on his forehead. 

A sudden wall of noise slammed into his ears, and Harry held tighter to the cup in his hands as someone grabbed him by his shoulders. He could hear his name, loud and cheered all around, as he was heaved up. 

“Harrison!” a familiar voice gasped. “Oh,  _ Harrison _ !” 

Finally, Harry opened his eyes, just in time for his mother to pull him into a tight hug. Her face was red, tears pricking her eyes. Behind her, Harry could see his father struggling towards him, leaning on his cane as Padfoot rushed to him. Glancing up, he saw everyone standing from their seats to cheer for his return. His return from the cemetery… 

Dropping the cup, Harry quickly pulled himself out of his mothers hold and turned, dropping to his knees to throw up in the grass. The cheers died to noises of disgust, though Harry didn’t care. His arm screamed in pain from being used to brace himself up, and his leg ached. 

Padfoot stopped in front of him, letting out noises of concern as his mother knelt to try and steady him. 

“A stretcher!” she demanded. “Somebody bring a stretcher! He’s hurt!” 

“Mama,” Harry gasped, voice rough as he clenched his fists in the long grass. His vision blurred and swam. 

“I’ve got him,” a gruff voice said, the creak of a wooden leg coming closer. 

“He needs to stay here,” the calm voice of Dumbledore said. “Harry, you need to tell us what happened.” 

Harry’s mother was on him in an instant, snarling in disgust. “Stay here?! He’s hurt and sick! He needs to see a healer!” 

“It’s alright, son,” Moody said, pulling Harry up. “Up you get. I’ve got you.” 

The larger man was half pulling, half carrying Harry quickly across the lawn. Blurry versions of the Beauxbatons carriage and the Durmstrang ship went by, and Harry scrambled to step up the stone stairs into the castle. At his other side, Harry could feel Padfoot brushing up against his leg. 

“What happened, Harry?” the man asked as they entered the castle. 

“Cup was a Portkey,” Harry said, shaking a little as they moved through the entrance hall. “Took me to a graveyard, and… And Voldemort was there…” 

They turned down a different hall, heading for more steps. Behind them, Padfoot barked quickly. 

“Quiet, dog!” Moody snapped, pulling Harry towards a door, opening it as he pulled Harry inside. “The Dark Lord was there. What happened then?” 

Harry groaned. “M-made a potion… Got his body back…” 

“The Dark Lord has his body back? He’s returned?” 

The door was shut heavily, followed by a softer click. It sounded like a gunshot to Harry’s pounding head. 

“He called the Death Eaters,” Harry said, groaning. “And… And we dueled…” 

“You dueled with the Dark Lord?” When Harry didn’t say anything, Moody set him in a chair, pushing a cup to his lips. “Drink this. You’ll feel better. Come on, Harry. I need to know exactly what happened.” 

The familiar taste of Pepper Up tingled his tongue, letting him focus on Moody just a bit more. He blinked up at the stark white face and unblinking eyes staring down at him. Harry knew he had so much to tell, to explain. But there was a more pressing issue. 

“There’s a Death Eater in the castle,” he said quickly, trying to sit up. “They put my name in the Goblet of Fire. They made to the end-” 

Moody pushed him back in his seat, nodding. “I know who the Death Eater is.” 

Head swimming, Harry made a guess. “Karkaroff? Have you got him? Did you lock him up?” 

“Karkaroff?” Moody snorted in an odd laugh. “Karakaroff fled earlier tonight, when he felt the Dark Mark burn on his arm. He turned traitor and gave away too many faithful supporters of the Dark Lord to meet any of them face to face and survive. But I doubt he'll get far. The Dark Lord has ways of finding his enemies.” 

“It wasn’t Karkaroff? He ran away? But then… Who put my name in the goblet?” 

A dark smile spreads on Moody’s face, saying two words that almost stopped Harry’s heart. “I did.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had considered taking out the wand bond part of this chapter, but I thought it was important enough to keep. After all, it is what causes Voldemort to go looking for a different wand, and Harry get's to interact with James and Lily.


	19. Barty Crouch Jr

Harry stared at Moody, eyes wide in horror. The Pepper Up potion was bringing everything into focus for him. The gravity of the situation was becoming clear. 

Voldemort was back, and he was organizing his followers. Harry was separated from his family, his snakes, and everyone that could help him. And to make matters worse, he was trapped in a room with a madman follower of Voldemort, with only Sirius knowing where he was. His wand was… Probably still out on the pitch where he had landed. 

So, yeah. Harry was, well, totally fucked. But there was the tiniest bit of hope. Sirius _ did _ know where he was, and he could go get help. And since Harry couldn’t hear him outside the room, he could only guess that Sirius had already gone for help. Or so Harry hoped. 

“Did the Dark Lord forgive them?” Moody asked, keeping his eyes locked on Harry. “The Death Eaters who went free? The ones who escaped Azkaban?” 

Harry stared back at Moody. He needed to think of something quick. He could tell the truth. About how Voldemort had been angry, and the Death Eaters would certainly be punished eventually. But he had to distract Moody, stall just long enough for help to arrive. 

“You couldn’t have,” Harry settled on, hoping he sounded believably confused and hurt. “You’re… You were an Auror. Why would you serve Voldemort?” 

“The Dark Lord’s followers were everywhere during the first war. So many of them were hidden, waiting for the right moment.” A dark smile curled at Moody’s lips. “I was his most loyal. Always passing along important information, doing anything he needed. Unlike those faithless, worthless cowards that were pretending at the World Cup. The treacherous filth that ran when I fired the Dark Mark into the sky.” 

Sucking in a breath, Harry stared. “You… You’re the one that stole my wand at the Cup?” 

“It was much too easy,” Moody pressed on, grinning like a mad man and just bosting now. “You’re wand had just been there, poking out of your pocket. It was all too easy to swipe it from you. And I remembered the incantation. It had been so long, but I could never forget. So I set it up, but those fake followers, they fled. 

“Tell me he told them. That I alone remained faithful. Tell me he hurt them, Harry.” His smile was slitting his face now, crazed and dark. “Tell me that he punished them, because they ran, but not I. I remained true. I remained, prepared to risk everything delivering you, who he wanted most of all.” 

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but his eyes caught something in the mirror on the wall. Shadowy shapes were moving in the glass, quickly becoming clear. His mouth hung open as he watched them become more distinct, sharpening until Harry saw the outlines for five people coming closer. Could it be… Help was coming?

“You’re mad,” Harry said, loud and sharp, cringing back in his seat, slouching down. “You’re absolutely mad!” 

“Mad?” Moody howled in a laugh, voice raising loudly, covering up the sound of running feet on stone. “We’ll see who’s mad, now that the Dark Lord has returned! We’ll see, when I stand by his side! He has returned, Harry Potter. He was not destroyed by you. And now, I will destroy you, in his name!” 

Moody raised his wand, opening his mouth to cast. But Harry smiled, using his good leg to kick out at the knee of the fake leg. Moody gave out a cry, tilting to the side as the door was thrown open. With several cries, red flashes of light shot out and collided with the Mad-eye Moody. Padfoot was shooting forward, sharp canines latching around Moody’s wand, nearly snapping it in half as he ripped it from the fallen and stunned man. 

With a breath of relief, Harry really slumped back in his chair, so happy to see his rescuers. His mother came running to him, as his father seethed in anger. Dumbledore led Snape and McGonagall the rest of the way into the room. 

As Dumbledore and Snape went to Moody’s unconscious body, McGonagall strode to Harry. She looked stern but concerned, holding out a hand, motioning him to stand. 

“Come now, Alistair,” she said, voice soft. Her mouth was pressed into a careful thin line that twitched ever so slightly. She looked rather sad. “To the hospital wing.” 

Even as Harry pushed himself to his feet, his mother and McGonagall moving to support him, Dumbledore turned. 

“No,” the headmaster said, sharp and unafraid. 

“Albus,” McGonagall said quickly as Harry felt his mother’s hold tighten around his shoulder. “He ought to… Look at him. He’s been through enough tonight, and-” 

“He needs to stay. He needs to understand. Understanding is the first step to acceptance, and only with acceptance can there be recovery. He needs to-” 

“_ Enough _ ,” his father snarled with a sharp stomp of his cane that echoed and bounced off the walls. “If we say he needs the hospital wing, then he will _ damn _ well go. You may be the headmaster here, but you are _ not _ in charge of my son. And you haven’t shown the greatest regard for his safety in his time here. He can ‘understand’ later. When the situation has been fully assessed and he is _ out of danger _. Do I make myself clear?” 

“Mr. Alistair,” Dumbledore tried. “I think it would be-” 

With another stomp of his cane, Gerald Alistair practically growled. “My son’s safety is more important then your _ agenda _ . _ Do I make myself clear _?” 

While he didn’t look pleased, Dumbledore gave a sharp nod, watching as Harry was led out by his parents and McGonagall. They walked to the hospital wing, slow and careful, as his mother fussed and tried to look him over. Padfoot was close at their heels, carefully following them to Madam Pomfrey. 

The matron was clearly worried when they brought Harry in. She had several bottles laid out, and ushered him onto a bed when he was close enough. Pouring out several different potions, handing him careful measured portions, she muttered under her breath how he should have been there sooner. She also swatted Padfoot when he tried to get too close, snapping that he shouldn’t even be allowed inside. 

When she finally finished with him, she had wrapped his arm and put his ankle in a splint. She’d given him a few potions to increase healing, but wanted to be sure. Leaving him to the watchful eye of his parents and McGonagall, Madam Pomfrey went back to her office to let them talk. 

For a moment, there was silence, no one seemed to know what to say. 

“The Cup was a Portkey,” Harry eventually said, breaking the quiet. 

“We know,” his mother said, reaching out to gently brush his hair out of his face. “It’s okay, dear. It can wait.” 

He swallowed. “It can’t. It… It’s important. Wormtail- Pettigrew was there. With… With Voldemort.” 

His mother sucked in a breath, closing her eyes to try and keep from flinching, as his father clenched his fists around the head of his cane. McGonagall pressed her lips into a tight line. Harry pressed on. 

“Pettigrew did some kind of spell. He used a bone, his own hand… Some of my blood. And he brought Voldemort back. Completely. He has a body, and he’s strong. He can summon his followers.” 

“Harrison,” his mother breathed, hand reaching out to squeeze one of his. “Harrison, it’s alright.” 

“No,” he said, pulling his hands back to fist them in the bed sheets. “No, you don’t understand. Remember, back in first year, when he was possessing Quirrel? How just my touch would hurt him? Voldemort, he- He has my _ blood _. He can touch me.” Swallowing thickly, he added, “Lily Potter’s protection is gone.” 

The air grew heavy around them, as that bit of information sank in. And Harry was starting to realize some other things this could mean. If Voldemort had some of Harry’s blood in his veins, did that mean he could get through the wards of the house? Could Voldemort go to the house, at this very moment, and kill everyone inside without worry? Could he be lying in wait for Harry and his family to return, in case Moody failed? 

“Is there anything else?” McGonagall asked, looking somber and worried. “Anything else you can tell us?” 

Harry glanced at her before darting his eyes away. He knew he needed to tell her, about the Death Eaters, but… They were his friends' fathers. Could he really turn them in, tell them that parents of his housemates had come when Voldemort had called, give names, and have them locked away or even killed for their crimes? 

But there was also that strange connection to consider. The golden strand that connected their wands, and the appearance of the Potters. 

“Yes,” Harry eventually said. “Yes, he… He called the Death Eaters. A lot of them came, and…” He paused, taking a breath. “He called them by name. I can tell you who they were. Macnair. Avery. Nott, Crabbe, Goyle. And Lucius Malfoy.” 

His father gave a careful, considered nod. He tapped his thumb on the crook of his cane, a rare agitated tick, as his brow furrowed. 

“Cornelius should still be here,” he said, scowling. “He’ll need to hear about this. We can only hope he’ll listen to reason and start preparing.” 

With that, Harry was left to watch as his father began to make his way towards the door. He was standing straighter now, or attempting to, limping as he seemed to refuse to use his cane. Harry could only stare after him, a strange feeling curdling in his gut. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but his father looked different. Like he was getting ready to enter a battlefield. 

His mother closed her eyes and took a careful breath. She looked tired, sad, but Harry couldn’t blame her. There was only so much she should have to worry about, and Harry really wished she didn’t have to. He reached out to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, wishing he could make things easier for her. For his family. 

McGonagall took that moment to get up. “I need to go speak with the headmaster. I’m sure Professor Snape will be in shortly to have a word.” She gave him a gentle nod, and quietly left the room. 

Harry glanced at Padfoot. He wanted to talk about his interactions with the… ghosts? Echoes? The _ things _ that had been the Potters. But he knew how sensitive Sirius was about them, so he wanted to do it without him in the room. Thankfully, Padfoot seemed to get the message, and let out a huff as he turned to follow McGonagall out. 

Opening her eyes, his mother looked at him in concern. “Harrison?” 

“I saw the Potters,” Harry eventually said, not looking at her. “This… thing happened, with my wand and Voldemort’s when we dueled. And… The people he killed, they came out of his wand. They spoke to me…” 

“That sounds like a Priori Incantatem,” she said. “I don’t know much about them, as they’re rather rare, but when two wands share a core from the same creature, that happens. All of the spells you’ve cast start being shown, in reverse. So if you’ve used the killing curse, a sort of… shadow of who you killed appears.” 

With a nod, Harry looked down at his hands, fiddling with his fingers. “They said that they loved me… That they knew I could do it…” His hands bunched in the sheets again, a wetness coming to his eyes. “Do you think… I know they weren’t really them, but do you think it was true? That they really loved me? That they’d be proud of me if they were here?...” 

Harry didn’t realize that he had started crying until his mother had leaned in to wrap her arms around his shoulders. She pulled him in, laying his head on her shoulder as she smoothed his hair and gently rocked him. 

“Of course they did,” she whispered into his hair. “And they would be _ so _ proud of you, Harrison. You’re so strong for your age, and so smart. You’ve been through so much, but you’ve only managed to come back stronger. And they would have been so proud to have you as their son.” 

Sucking in a breath, Harry reached around her. He wrapped his arms around her, hands fisting in the back of her robes as he let out shakey sobs. Tears dropped down his face, and he wanted so terribly to at least have memories of his birth parents. To remember James Potter as a doting father instead of just pictures in a book, or to have seen Lily Potter in person to get to know her through more then Snape's stories. He wished he knew them, and for the first time since becoming an Alistair, he truly wished he could have been a Potter, if only to know the two that sacrificed everything for him. 

It took him a while before he managed to calm down. But when he did, his mother didn’t ask questions. She simply smiled sadly and pressed a gentle kiss to his temple. Madam Pomfrey eventually came back out of her office to check on him again before she’d go to bed. After seeing that the potions he had been given were working, but rather slowly, she insisted that he needed to rest. His mother agreed, on the condition that Padfoot be allowed to stay with him. While she didn’t seem to like it, Pomfrey did agree, and let Padfoot back in when his mother left. 

Once the two women were gone, and the corridors outside became quiet, Harry laid back in his cot to sleep. Padfoot lay at the foot of the bed, curled up and turning over onto his back to get comfortable. Harry watched for a moment, until Padfoot began to give soft snoring snuffles. 

He couldn’t sleep like this. He needed to take a walk. 

Carefully peeling away the blanket, Harry turned in the bed to place his feet on the ground. The stone was cold under his bare feet, having been stripped of his socks and shoes in the initial examination. Still, he felt the need to move about, and pushed himself up to his feet. He gave a hiss when he put pressure on his back ankle, nearly falling back. Looking around, Harry spotted a cluster of crutches in the corner, and hopped over to find one to lean on. 

Now armed with walking help, Harry quietly eased his way out of the infirmary and down the hall. He wanted to know about Moody, about what Dumbledore had found out. Or if Dumbledore had found anything out at all. With the man’s track record, Harry wouldn’t be surprised if Dumbledore had rewarded him for revealing Harry to the public. 

“Harry,” a voice said as he was about to turn a corner. 

Turning, Harry blinked. “Headmaster. I would have thought you’d be in bed.” 

The older wizard hummed, something shining in his eyes as he moved to take stride beside Harry. “I would have thought the same of you. But, alas, I have just heard the Minister is going to see young Barty Crouch.” 

Harry frowned, skeptical. “Barty Crouch, sir? I thought he was dead.”

“Barty Crouch Jr.,” Dumbledore explained. “He’s the one that really attacked you tonight, and has been using Polyjuice Potion to disguise himself as Alastor Moody. He’s also the one who put your name in the Goblet of Fire, under the category of a fourth school to ensure you would be in the Tournament. He’s being held in a room just down the corridor. Would you like to see him?” 

Deciding that, for once, Harry thought he should trust Dumbledore, Harry followed the man down the hall. They walked slowly, mostly due to Harry being on a crutch, and silently, as Harry didn’t really want to listen to the Headmaster. When they reached the room, Dumbledore was the one to open the door, letting Harry step in first. 

But what he saw was not a stranger tied to a chair. It was a somewhat familiar looking man, sitting in a chair as a Dementor kissed him, the minister standing off to the side. And Harry could only stare in horror. 

“_ Expecto Patronum _,” Dumbledore hissed, right before a silvery wisp of a phoenix patronus went zipping past Harry. It collided with the Dementor pushing it back. When Harry looked back at Dumbledore, the man looked furious. “Cornelius! What is the meaning of this?” 

“He was a criminal and a lunatic,” Fudge said, rather simply. “Spouting some nonsense about You-Know-Who being back! But we all know that can’t _ possibly _ be true.” 

The minister’s eyes landed on Harry, eyes almost narrowed. He looked like he was waiting or something. Clearly, Harry’s father had spoken with the Minister. And, clearly, the minister hadn’t listened to reason. 

“Of course,” Harry said, keeping his voice carefully level and void of emotion or snark. “I must have been mistaken. There were lots of traps in that maze that messed with our heads.” 

The minister nodded, and said his goodbyes as he left with his Dementor guard. Making enemies with the Minister of Magic would do nothing to help the situation. Sure, Harry wanted to warn everyone, and he would certainly try later, there was no use trying to talk with Fudge. It would only end badly. 

Taking a deep breath, Harry turned to the man in the chair, Barty Crouch Jr. He was already dead. 

“I’m going to bed, Headmaster,” Harry said, turning back to the door. “I think I’ve seen enough for the night.” 

And with that, Harry walked his way back to his room. That night, the lifeless face of Barty Crouch haunted his dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder! If you have an opinion on when I start posting OotP, please tell me! I only have two chapters done, and I will not have a lot of write in the coming months. So would you prefer I post chapters as I finish them, or go on hiatus until I can post them regularly?


	20. Be Prepared

When Harry got up that next morning, Madam Pomfry shooed Padfoot off the bed and examined his ankle. It wasn’t broken, just a bad sprain. If he stayed off it for a few days and used crutches, it would be fine and heal on its own, without potions. She’d send out a notice to the teachers to let them know, and also arrange for Padfoot to stay, if only to fetch things for Harry. 

Even as a dog, Padfoot didn’t seem all that pleased with being reduced to an errand boy. 

Harry made his way down towards his dorm, hoping along on his crutches with Padfoot by his side. There was still a month left in the term, and he had a feeling that at Hogwarts, his ankle wasn’t all that likely to heal as quickly as Madam Pomfrey hoped. Already, he was tempted to ditch the crutches, since they kept stabbing him in his armpits when he tried to go down stairs. 

As he went, the students in the hallway would turn to look at him in surprise. The whispers began again. The Boy Who Lived, returned from a dangerous tournament, more injured then when he had betrayed Cedric in the maze. Clearly, Cedric had told others what he had done to reach the cup. And really, Harry did feel bad, about threatening such a nice guy with Honavi, but Harry didn’t dare think about what would have happened if Cedric had gotten to the cup first. 

When he reached the entrance to the dorm room, he carefully spoke the password, the name of a previous Slytherin Head of House, and did his best to walk into the room with Padfoot. Almost as soon as he was inside, the Common Room erupted into applause. The room was filled with Slytherin’s, of all years, wanting to congratulate him on his triumph. They came forward, older students clapping him on the back while younger ones wanted to ask questions about the maze. Harry could only numbly nod along, and quietly ask to be left alone to go to his room. 

How many? He couldn’t help but wonder. How many of his housemates would turn on him, keep a watchful eye on him, when they got word of Voldemort’s return? How many would side with Voldemort, or would choose to refuse and be hurt because of it? How many wouldn’t return next year, simply because they were forced to make a choice? 

As Harry entered his dorm room, he dropped his crutches and practically flopped down on his bed. 

“Harrison,” he heard Draco say from across the room. “You’re back. Are you alright? We went to see you in the hospital wing, but we weren’t allowed in.” 

Harry clenched his eyes closed, wondering what he could tell them, what he  _ should _ tell them. Could he really tell his friends about how their fathers had come to help Voldemort, and that they should be careful when they went home? But, then again, wouldn’t it be better for them to know? So they could be prepared for the worst? 

“Harry?” Blaise called. 

Taking a deep breath, Harry sat up. “Remember how before, I said there were… things I hadn’t told you?”

That got the attention of his roommates. Even Crabbe and Goyle set down what looked like cinnamon rolls to look at him. He had to be careful with how he worded this. 

“You said they were dangerous secrets,” Theo said, carefully setting aside his book. “That you’d have to get back to us on what wasn’t too dangerous to tell. Did you think of something?” 

“No,” Harry confessed, Padfoot moving closer to sit at his feet and place a careful, reassuring paw on his knee. Well, Harry liked to think it was reassuring. It could have been Sirius’ way of saying he didn’t have to do this. “Actually, things just got…  _ way _ more dangerous. Not just me, but for my family, and… my friends. But you guys…” He glanced at them from the corner of his eye. “It’s going to be worst for you guys, and I just want to make sure you’re prepared.

“We figured out who put my name in the tournament last night. It was Barty Crouch Jr. He’s been pretending to be Moody since the beginning of the school year. His plan was to… Well, I don’t really know  _ exactly _ what his plan was, but if I didn’t die during the tasks, he planned on using the Tournament cup to send me to a cemetery where his master would be waiting for me.” 

Pausing, Harry turned completely to face his friends and roommates. All of them had horrified or somber looks. Clearly, they had a guess for what Harry was going to say next. 

“With the help of a man named Peter Pettigrew, Voldemort was able to return. He’s back, and when my father tried to tell Fudge, he refused to believe it. But the reason I’m telling you, here and now, is because Voldemort called his Death Eaters. And… And your fathers were there.” 

Picking up his crutches, with the help of Padfoot, Harry stood up once more. “I know you might not believe me, but I thought it was important that you know.” 

Carefully, Harry began to make his way back out of the dorm and out of the Slytherin Dungeons. He needed to fill Ron and Hermione in, and maybe apologize to Cedric. 

XxXXxX

While it didn’t take long to find and fill Ron and Hermione in, it took a bit more to find Cedric. After his failure in the maze, to a boy with almost half his experience, the Hufflepuff had gone up to sit with his girlfriend in the astronomy tower by themselves. When Harry arrived, Cho didn’t look happy to see him, but Cedric didn’t seem all that surprised. 

“It’s alright, Cho,” Cedric said, putting a hand on her shoulder to calm her down. “Harry. I meant to come talk to you, but I didn’t know when you’d be out of the hospital wing.” 

“Got out this morning,” Harry said, moving a bit more into the room. “I had some things to do first, but I wanted to talk to you.” 

With a slow nod, Cedric looked Harry over, pausing at Harry’s still bandaged arm and his splinted ankle. “You didn’t have either of those when you grabbed that cup.” 

“No. No, I didn’t.” 

Slowly, Cedric nodded. “If I had gotten to the cup first… I would have died. Right?” 

“Yeah…” 

Instantly, Cho was furious again. “You’d go that far? In some stupid tournament?” 

“Cho,” Cedric said, reaching out to grab her shoulder again. “No, that’s… That’s not what he’s saying. Maybe… Maybe you should wait outside.” 

“No,” Harry said, almost a little too quickly. Both of the older students paused. “I think she should hear this too. You’re both popular in your houses, and… And you can tell others.” 

And so, Harry explained, once again, what had happened that night. He told them about Voldemort, and how he had used Harry’s blood to return. How he has summoned his followers almost instantly to his side. How the Minister of Magic was reusing to believe anything Harry had said. 

“We’re not sure many, if any adults not part of my family, would believe me,” Harry said, shifting around on his crutches. “So we’re trying to at least tell some of the other students, so they’ll be ready if things go bad. Maybe they can convince their parents to at least make a plan if things get rough. But it would help if you two were involved. You’re popular. Some of the younger years might listen to you.” 

“We’ll help, Harry,” Cedric promised. “It’s the least I can do. I mean, if what you said is true… You saved my life.” 

With a bit of a smile, glad to have more allies, Harry made his way back down towards the main part of the castle. Aside from his talk with his roommates, his preparations were going rather well so far. Maybe things wouldn’t end so badly. 

By the end of lunch, that hope was gone. 

Harry had sat down with Victor, Cedric, and Fluer at a table in the Great Hall. It was the day after the Tournament, and they would have one last meal together before the students of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons left. Harry was glad that he would, at the very least, get the chance to say goodbye to Viktor. He was pleasantly surprised to find out that he’d likely see Viktor again. 

“I have invited Hermione to come to Bulgaria over the summer,” Viktor was saying. “She has invited me to come with her to a party of some kind in your home.”

Harry laughed, feeling a bit calmer, now that he had spoken with Cedric and Cho. “It would be great to have you! We still haven’t gone flying yet.” 

As Viktor was nodding, owl’s began to arrive with the post. Harry was surprised to find one of the first birds to arrive came straight for him. The eagle owl swooped down, dropping a rolled and tied newspaper right into his hands before rushing off. Blinking in surprise, Harry broke the knot on the paper, finding a note hiding the headline on the front page. 

_ Harry,  _

_ We don’t know how she found out, but by the time we got back from our own assignments, the paper was already printed. There was nothing we could do. We thought it would be best to send you a copy first, to make sure you were ready.  _

_ Emit & Neva _

Wide eyed, and stomach churning, Harry moved the note to get the first look at the headline. 

** _The Boy Who Lived to Go Mad_ **

_ As many already know, at the end of October, it was revealed that the newly returned Triwizard Tournament would be having a fourth champion, in the form of one young Harrison Alistair. The wizarding world was shocked, as the boy had spent much of his time after being adopted simply enjoying his new family and only being in the papers for family photos.  _

_ It was revealed after the Second Task that the young Harrison Alistair was actually Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter. The very same Boy Who Lived that defeated He Who Must Not Be Named, thirteen years ago. Now, this very same boy has tried to make claims that You Know Who has returned!  _

_ After his triumph in the Third Task (see page 7 for more), Harrison Alistair was delayed in his return. As the other three Champions returned to the entry point, Alistair was nowhere to be seen. Then, he simply appeared, bloody. After going to the hospital wing at Hogwarts School, he had a shocking tale to tell.  _

_ The young Alistair seems to insist that he had been taken by long dead He Who Must Not Be Named. Alistair described being taken away to a cemetery, where he was tortured and dueled the dead dark wizard. “He took my blood,” Alistair claimed.  _

_ However, Alistair’s story should be taken with more than a grain of salt. Not long after telling this tall tale, Alistair confesses that the maze that held the Final Task had many traps that messed with the Champions minds. So, can the mental state of a fourteen year old boy, coming out of an experience like the Triwizard Tournament, be trusted? Evidence says no.  _

_ “He attacked Cedric,” one Cho Chang, early this morning. She went on to relay what her boyfriend, Cedric Diggory, said to her. How the Young Alistair had helped stop another Champion from attacking Diggory in the maze, only to turn around to attack himself. She then goes on to mention how Diggory believes if he had reached the cup first, Alistair would have gravely injured, or even killed Diggory. “He’d really go that far for a stupid tournament.”  _

_ We have been unable to reach the young Alistair, but we at the Daily Prophet believe that Harrison Alistair should take his time to rest after his experience to truly understand what it is he’s been saying.  _

By the time Harry finished reading, the rest of the paper’s had arrived, and many of the other students were looking at him in disgust or horror. His stomach dropped, eyes searching for anyone that was on his side. Hermione and Ron turned worried looks his way, while Cho seemed insulted by the lies the Prophet was trying to pull off as her words. Cedric shook his head, clearly annoyed. But the Slytherin’s, his friends and roommates, were all huddled together, glancing around at one another. 

Harry closed his eyes, and took a deep, deep breath. This last month wasn’t going to be as calm as he had hoped. 

XxXXxX

The Slytherin’s remained perfectly neutral to Harry for the rest of the term. They were not rude, but they were not kind. Unless he spoke to one of them, they seemed to simply give polite nods to him in the hall. His fellow Slytherin Fourth Years were all careful around him, save for Blaise, who explained that, while they wanted to believe that Harry wouldn’t lie to them, if he was telling the truth, they needed to be careful. 

The rest of the school was more… interactive with Harry. And not in a good way. He had to go back to the hospital wing three days after the Prophet sent out that article. Someone had ‘bumped’ his crutch on the stairs, and it had broken. He nearly fell, and probably would have if Padfoot hadn’t been there to stop him. People in the halls were constantly calling him a liar. 

“They can’t be that ignorant,” Hermione had said one day in potions, as they were brewing their last potion of the year. “Shouldn’t they at least try to listen to what you have to say instead of jumping to conclusions?” 

“They don’t want to listen,” Harry had replied. “They don’t want him to be back.” 

On the last day of term, at the farewell feast, Dumbledore tried to talk to them. He told the students that, yes, Voldemort was back. And the Ministry wouldn’t do anything, simply because they didn’t want it to be true. He told every student present that they needed to think for themselves, to be prepared, in case Voldemort decided to attack. That he hoped they would all listen, and be ready. 

Harry could already see that very few would listen to anything Dumbledore said. 

XxXXxX

When it was finally time to go home, Harry didn’t go with the others to the train. He said his goodbyes to the Slytherin’s in the dormitory, and Hermione and Ron at the Entrance hall. Once Marrissa, as well as Milla and Hester, had joined Harry, they made their way together towards Hogsmeade instead. 

Sirius, having hidden at the school rather then leave when Harry had come off the crutches, joined them as a guard. They would have had Snape, but Dumbledore had unexpectedly called him to his office. 

“Is there going to be a war?” Milla had asked, her voice small as she pulled her rolling trunk behind her. “Because that bad guy came and hurt Harry again?” 

Harry bit his lip, glancing from Milla, to Marrissa, then to Padfoot. The dog huffed, a clear ‘Well?’ He wanted desperately to tell Milla that everything would be fine, that they’d all be okay. But he didn’t have an answer for them. 

“Everything will be alright,” Marrissa said for him, when he didn’t answer. “Nothing is going to hurt you, as long as you’re ready. Okay?” 

The twins, while not seeming completely convinced, did nod and relax a little. Harry wished he could give them something else, to tell them that everything was going to be okay, and that no one was going to be hurt. But that would be a lie. And he didn’t think he had it in him to lie like Marrissa did in that moment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! that's book 4 wrapped up! I will post the first chapter of OotP in 2 weeks, as I've actually got almost nothing on my plate until late April now! So, I've gotten a fair bit done for book 5 already! See you all in 2 weeks!


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